Realizing It's Never Too Late
by You-Should-Know-Who
Summary: After taking different paths a couple of years ago, Ron and Hermione find each other again, both of them wondering if their separation was a mistake. This applies especially to Hermione, who is leading an empty, unhappy life next to her fiancé.
1. The Right Decision?

**Disclaimer: I'm sad to say I don't own Harry. J.K. Rowling does. I just own this plot.**

**A.N.: Special thanks to my beta, AurorGirl101.**

**Chapter One**

**The Right Decision?**

Hermione Granger was lying on her bed the day after Christmas, contemplating the _very expensive_ engagement ring her fiancé gave her the previous morning, when she was in his parents' house in Bedford, opening presents.

---

"_There's another present left here, Hermione," said Michael, as he pulled a small black box from his pocket._

_Hermione froze when she realized what was in the box. "Michael…" she gasped._

"_Hermione," he said as he kneeled down in front of her, "you are the love of my life. Without you, I would not be the man I am today. You have made these last few months wonderful for me, and I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you."_

_Hermione's eyes filled with tears as he proposed._

"_Hermione, will you marry me?" _

"_Yes."_

---

She had the perfect life. Her _fiancé_ (she would have to get used to that word) was amazing: sweet, smart, wonderfully funny. She met him eight months ago while she was shopping in Flourish & Blotts. His name was Michael Sandford, and he was from one of the wealthiest families of the Wizarding World. Of course, Hermione didn't care about the money. He was so romantic, so sensible, and so perfect, that she would have to pinch herself every now and then. His good looks helped too: six foot three, brown hair, blue eyes; just strikingly handsome.

She had moved in with him a couple of months earlier. They now lived in his "house" in Hogsmeade (it was practically a mansion: it cost him around _half a_ _million_ Galleons). Michael arrived just after the most difficult time in her life; the part that came after that heartbreaking split from Ron two years ago. It had been very hard for her to stop the relationship she had with the only man she had loved. The one she had shared so many firsts with; the only one that fully understood her.

These last couple of years had been very difficult. Hermione lost her parents two months after the break up. They died in a plane crash on their way to Scotland to visit her, which made things worse, because Hermione considered their deaths to be her fault. She was beginning her job as a professor at Hogwarts and had asked her parents to visit her so they could see her new flat and visit Hogsmeade. That time, when she had needed Ron the most, was the only time he had not been there for her.

After Hogwarts, Ron decided to become an Auror, which meant that he had to undergo three years of intense training. The reason he was not there with Hermione for the funeral was that, when they broke up, he had asked the Ministry to transfer him so he could finish his training elsewhere. Since he was just a year into training, the Ministry agreed. He left the week before the accident. He left because he felt he needed to get as far from Hermione as he could; he assumed distance would be the best way to heal his wounds. This break up had been painful for him as well. It still wasn't clear how two people that were so much in love had broken up, especially after five long years of a close friendship and two years of a very serious relationship. What Ron didn't know was that distance only makes the heart grow fonder.

Even though Ron had not been with her, the Weasley family supported Hermione through this difficult time. They took her under their wing and became her family. Molly became like a second mother to Hermione, looking after her, always making sure she was alright. After the funeral, she even spent a few nights at The Burrow, because the Weasleys felt it would be better for her, given that she was emotionally fragile. They had remained close to Hermione during these last two years. Molly even seemed to like Michael, even though that throughout Ron and Hermione's relationship she had made it pretty clear to Harry and Ginny that she firmly believed her youngest son and Hermione belonged together.

---

"Morning," Michael said, as he entered the room.

"What time is it?" asked Hermione.

"About ten o'clock. Why?" he said.

"Why didn't you wake me? I had to be at Ginny's place by nine!"

Hermione quickly got up and dressed in a matter of minutes.

"See you later!" she yelled, as she ran out the front door.

---

With a faint _pop_, Hermione arrived at Ginny and Harry's flat's front door.

"Hello!" she said when Harry opened the door.

"Hermione!" said Harry cheerfully, giving his best friend a hug. "How are you? We missed you yesterday! Where did you spend Christmas?"

"Michael's parents invited us to their house in Bedford," she said as she walked inside.

"Oh my God! You've gotten so big!" exclaimed a very surprised Hermione when she entered the living room.

"Well, what did you expect?" said Ginny, who was lying on the couch, patting her six-month-old swollen belly. "We haven't seen each other since the announcement, and that was three months ago!"

"Wow, has it been that long?"

"I know. It's weird isn't it?" said Ginny. "I remember when we couldn't spend a day without _at least_ talking to each other over the floo network. So, how are you? What have you been up to?"

"I'm doing okay. You know, still clinging to that job at Hogwarts," said Hermione.

"Harry, would you have ever imagined 'Hermione Granger, the Transfiguration professor'?" asked Ginny.

"To tell you the truth," said Harry, "I kind of expected it. A part of me always considered it more probable than the chance of 'Ron Weasley, the Auror'."

"How _is_ Ron?" asked Hermione timidly.

"He's great. He has been really busy, though," said Harry. "Travelling a lot, lately. He's been representing England in different seminars all over the world. We saw him yesterday for the first time in months. At least he got the Ministry's green light to become an official Auror a couple of weeks ago, so he'll be settling down very soon. He's really happy."

After an awkward silence, Hermione tried to change the subject. "Well, I suppose if you have taken the time to call me, you know, with your busy schedule and all, these must be some big news."

"These _are_ some pretty big news," said Ginny, looking at Harry.

"So?" asked Hermione impatiently.

Ginny smiled at Harry. "Well, we had an appointment with our Healer."

"And…?"

"And, as it turns out, we got three little surprises."

_"No! You're joking!"_

Ginny's smile turned into a grin.

"You mean…"

"We're having _triplets_!"

"_Oh my God_ That's wonderful!" said Hermione, giving a hug and a kiss to Ginny.

"We found out a few months ago, but we didn't want tell anyone yet. We decided to wait and tell everyone on Christmas!" said Ginny.

"This is amazing! Well, since we are giving news, I've got some big news myself."

Ginny and Harry looked at each other, wondering what could possibly be Hermione's news.

"I'm engaged!" said Hermione, raising her left hand (which she had been hiding ever since she came inside the Potter residence) so they could see her awfully big engagement ring.

"Michael proposed yesterday," she explained.

"Oh my God!" said Ginny, suddenly sitting up and covering her mouth with her hands in surprise.

"Er… Well… Congratulations!" said Harry, still in shock.

"What? What's wrong?" asked Hermione.

"Nothing," said Harry. "It's great! Really! It's—"

"So soon?" asked Ginny, out of nowhere.

"What do you mean 'so soon'?" asked Hermione.

"What she means," said Harry quickly, "is that—"

"You just met him eight months ago," said Ginny, "and I think—"

"Gin," Hermione interrupted, "I know you just want the best for me, I really do, but believe me when I say that I _want_ to get married. That's the next logical step to take. He loves me very, very much. If I wasn't so sure, I would've said no in a heartbeat."

"It's not that, Hermione," said Ginny. "I just don't think you love him _that_ much. In fact, I have _not_ heard you say that you love him at all. I don't want you to make the greatest mistake of you life just because you _think _that getting married is the next 'logical' thing to do. This is a huge commitment you're making. We love you very much. We… we just don't want to see you get hurt. And he's so much older than you! He's thirty, for God's sake! I think you're rushing into things."

"I _won't_ get hurt, Ginny," said Hermione. "Age doesn't matter! Michael is so sweet and kind. He could never hurt me. He cares deeply about me. I know he does."

---

Nearly three hours later, and after Ginny made her promise she would spend New Year's Eve at The Burrow, Hermione left the Potters' to meet Michael at the Leaky Cauldron.

"Over here!" she heard Michael shout from a table in one of the corners of the crowded pub.

"Hi," she said, giving him a peck on the lips.

"Hi. Hungry?" he asked, handing her a menu.

"Ooh! I'm dying for a Pumpkin Pasty!"

"Tom, could I have one bowl of pea soup, one pumpkin pasty, one Butterbeer, and… What will you drink, honey?"

"A Gillywater for me."

"Certainly, Mr. Sandford," said Tom, taking two dishes and levitating two large mugs quickly to the table.

"Thanks, Tom," said Hermione.

"Dig in," said Michael. "So, how did it go over at the Potters' place?"

"Oh Michael! You wouldn't imagine!" Hermione said, sitting up with excitement.

"What?"

"They're having triplets!"

"No way! That's incredible."

"I know," said Hermione.

"So? Did you tell them?" asked Michael.

"I… did."

"And? What did they say?"

"Oh, they were just thrilled!" Hermione lied.

"Good! By the way, my parents want to see us, to talk about the dates and stuff."

"Oh," said Hermione, wondering how things would work from now on, since his mother was _so_ manipulative. She just knew she would want to control _everything_.

"Okay," she said. "And before I forget, were spending New Year's Eve at The Burrow. Ginny invited us."

"Oh, well, I thought we would spend it quietly in Bedford."

"Michael," said Hermione, "I really don't know what is wrong with you. Each time I mention _my_ family, you try to either change the subject or the plans I make—"

"Hermione, they're not your family—"

"Yes, they are," she said firmly. "They were the ones that took care of me when I needed it the most. They _still_ look after me even though it has been two years since—" Hermione stopped abruptly. It still was hard to talk about the accident. "The point is, Michael, they _are_ my family. I wanted to spend Christmas with the people I love— don't get me wrong, I love your family too, but it's different— and you said you had already made plans with your parents, and I respected that. I don't get why you don't like them."

"I like them! I really, really do!"

Hermione gave him an incredulous look.

"Hermione, they're really nice and all, but I'm more of a… a quiet family guy."

"Look, I know things can get crazy around them, but they are my family and I love them. A lot. And they love me. We are spending New Year's Eve at The Burrow. End of discussion." They sat and finished their meals in silence, neither of them daring to break the fragile silence.

---

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I overreacted?" An hour or so after Hermione had left, Ginny was still thinking about the news delivered to her that morning.

"Well, maybe a bit," said Harry, who was reading _The Daily Prophet_.

"I don't like him, Harry."

Harry lowered his paper.

"You know what kind of person Michael is," said Ginny. "He's the type that has a different girlfriend each week, and _millions and millions_ to spend. Did you know that he persuaded Hermione to open a joint account in Gringotts? Or that he always wants to go with her every time she has to make a trip? And haven't you noticed how she has distanced herself from us? It's him. He controls her. He's a manipulative, egocentric—"

"Ginny," interrupted Harry, "you know I don't like him either, but this is the guy Hermione chose. She loves him—"

"Harry, she can not possibly—"

"Hey, I'm not finished," said Harry. "We have to be supportive. She has been through a lot. You know that."

"But Harry," said Ginny, "she belongs with Ron."

"Ginny, do you realize who you are telling this to?"

"Sorry," she mumbled. "But what if it's too late?"

"Gin, they're my best friends and I know how stubborn they both can be, especially Ron. But trust me: Ron and Hermione will realize they belong together _long before_ it's too late."

---

After finishing her pumpkin pasty, cooling off, and telling Michael all about the Potter triplets, Hermione took a walk hand-in-hand with her fiancée down Diagon Alley.

"So," said Michael, "when do you think we should have the wedding?"

That question caught Hermione a bit off guard. She hadn't had time to think about dates yet!

"Oh," said Hermione. "Well, um, what do you think about a… Spring wedding? I've always wanted to get married in the Spring."

"That's nice," answered Michael. "But I had in mind a Fall wedding. We can talk about it later, don't worry."

---

Hermione and Michael spent the rest of the afternoon shopping in Diagon Alley. After visiting Flourish and Blotts, when it had started to get really dark, they decided to head home to Hogsmeade.

"Oh! I'm so tired!" said Hermione, as she dropped her bags and headed for the bedroom. Once there, she pulled on a nightgown and quickly fell asleep.

---

"_Hermione! Where are you going?"_

_Tears were streaming down Hermione's face as she walked down Charing Cross Road, trying to get as far away from Ron as she could._

"_Hermione! Stop right there!"_

_Hermione stopped and turned to look at Ron. He could see the tears on her face gleaming under the light of the street lamps._

"_Why don't you trust me, Ron?"_

"_What are you talking about? I trust you!"_

"_Oh, Ron! You know exactly what I am talking about! Having a relationship with you is like having a long distance relationship. You're not here half of the time, and when you are here, you seem so distant," said Hermione, between sobs. "It's like you don't know me. Once in a while, I'd like to know what's troubling you, but you won't let me be a part your life!"_

"_Hermione, please. Don't do this right now," said Ron, looking uncomfortable._

"_Then when, Ron? When! I… I can't keep doing this."_

"_What? What do you mean?"_

"_I'm so sorry, Ron. Maybe we…"_

"_Hermione… Please don't."_

"_I have to…" she said quietly, stepping away from Ron._

"_Hermione…"_

---

Hermione suddenly woke up, breathing hard. It was dark outside. The clock next to her told her it was 2:30 A.M. A shirtless Michael was sleeping next to her.

"Whatisit?" he mumbled.

"Just… another nightmare. I'm… I'm going to get a glass of milk."

"Hmmm…" was all that Michael managed to say back.

Hermione got out of bed, grabbed a bathrobe and walked out of the room, down the stairs, past the kitchen, and out the front door.

Pulling the robe tighter around her, she sat on the veranda's small steps. The night was cold and silent.

For the past few weeks, a dream had been haunting Hermione's nights. Well, a nightmare, really. It was the memory of the night she and Ron broke up. Every night she had a feeling of dread and despair, but she didn't know why. Wasn't she happy with Michael? Wasn't he the perfect man for her? Why couldn't she stop thinking about Ron? Why did that night keep coming back to her? _What if she made a huge mistake?_


	2. Happy New Year

**A/N: Special thanks to my beta, AurorGirl101.**

**Chapter Two**

**Happy New Year**

"Morning, dear," said Michael, as Hermione descended the stairs and entered the kitchen.

"Morning," said Hermione, yawning.

"Had another rough night?"

"Not… really."

"At what time do we have to be at The Burrow tonight?" asked Michael.

"Seven," replied Hermione.

"So, what do you want to do today?"

"It's New Year's Eve. There's _nothing_ to do."

"I wanted to take you to that new restaurant near The Three Broomsticks. You know, The Den? What do you say?"

"I've been dying to go there! But are they open today?" asked Hermione.

"I think so, yeah," said Michael, as he called the restaurant and made reservations for lunch.

---

"Welcome to The Den. Name?"

"Sandford… Michael Sandford. I called this morning."

"Mr. Sandford. Pleasure to meet you," said a lanky hostess, shaking Michael's hand. "My name is Amanda. Please follow me."

After being seated, Michael and Hermione ordered the house's specialty: sushi.

"I'm really looking forward to seeing everyone again," said Hermione. "You know Bill's _brilliant _son, Philip? He just turned three-"

"I'm so sorry to interrupt, Mr. Sandford," said Amanda, "but there's a floo call for you."

"Who is it?" Michael asked.

"Um, it's your mother, sir."

"Michael… How would she know where to find you?" asked Hermione.

"I told her we would be here," replied Michael, matter-of-factly. "I'll be right back, honey."

A few minutes later, he returned.

"Beth is in the hospital," Michael informed Hermione. Beth was Michael's sweet younger sister. She was the only member of his family Hermione could get along with, probably because Beth was only three years older than her. She was also nine months pregnant.

"Oh my God! Is she okay? Is she in labour? How is she?"

"Calm down," said Michael, laughing. "She's okay. She's not in labour yet. John took her to St. Mungo's like an hour ago."

"Shouldn't we be there?"

"Mum said that we should enjoy the rest of the day, welcome the New Year happily, _not_ in a hospital," said Michael. "She said that Beth would probably give birth after midnight anyway and that they will call if there are any problems."

"But let's stop by the hospital on our way to The Burrow."

"Honey, don't worry about it. We'll stop on our way back."

"Okay. Wow… Baby number four…"

"Yes. Let's just hope it's the last one."

"Why do you say that? It's not bad to have many children," said Hermione. "John and Beth are great parents! And look at Molly, for example! She managed to raise _seven_ wonderful kids."

"Didn't you say the Weasleys were broke?"

Hermione gave him a severe look. "You know I didn't say that."

"I'm just saying…"

"That's enough," said Hermione.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," said Michael. "I don't mean to be rude."

"I'm sorry," said Hermione, softening a bit.

"It's okay," said Michael. "Don't worry."

---

"Michael?"

"Hmmm?"

"I don't feel so good," said Hermione, who lay on her bed, tangled between her linen sheets in her fiancé's arms.

"Why? What's wrong?" Michael asked.

"I…" She quickly stood up and ran to the bathroom, where she proceeded to throw up her lunch.

"Are you okay?" asked Michael, helping Hermione up, dressing her in a soft nightgown, and taking her back to bed. After getting a robe on, he went downstairs to get her a glass of water.

As soon as she drank the water, Hermione felt a wave of relief wash over her. Her attention fell on Michael's face, which had turned a funny shade of green.

"Michael?" she asked tentatively.

Michael ran to the bathroom where, he too, threw up part of his lunch.

He proceeded to throw himself on the bed, sweating profusely.

"Oh, God, it must have been the fish," said Hermione. "I'll get you some water."

"Don't… You're sick too."

"Michael, I'm fine. _You_ look horrible. Besides, you know I didn't eat that much."

"_You didn't eat that much?_ Hermione, you barely left food for me," said Michael.

"Hello! Is anyone there?" called a man's voice from the living room.

"Don't move. I'll go and check," said Hermione, putting on a dressing gown.

"Hermione!" said the head floating in the living room's fireplace.

Hermione recognized the man immediately. It was Liam, Michael's best friend and business partner.

"Is Michael there?" he asked desperately.

"He's upstairs. Liam, what's wrong?"

"Those bloody French Muggles backed out on their offer!"

"Hang on. What '_bloody French Muggles'_ and what '_offer' _are you talking about?" Hermione hardly ever understood what Liam and Michael were up to.

"Could you please call Michael?"

"He's sick. He can barely stand."

"What is it Liam?" called Michael's weak voice from behind Hermione.

"Michael! I told you to stay in bed!"

"Hermione, this is important," said Michael. "Okay, Liam. What's wrong?"

As Liam proceeded to explain, Hermione made her way to the kitchen, where she looked for her copy of "The Healer's Helpmate", to see if she could find a potion to relief food poisoning. After concocting a very suspicious-looking potion, she poured it into two glasses and made her way back to the living room, where she found Michael discussing strategies with Liam.

"We have to get there and convince these people," she heard Liam say. Michael, who was sitting on the couch, looked awful.

"Drink this," Hermione told him.

"What _is_ this?" asked Michael hesitantly.

"_This_ will get rid of any trace of food poisoning we have in our body," said Hermione. Michael kept looking at the glass she was offering him with disgust. "I'm not trying to kill you, Michael…" she said annoyed.

"Go on, mate," said Liam, trying to suppress his laughter. "Be a man." The comment made Hermione chuckle. Michael reluctantly took the glass and gulped down the potion quickly; Hermione followed.

Michael let out a sigh, sign of the immense relief he felt.

"Good," said Hermione. "Now Liam, if you'll excuse us, we have to go and get ready."

"What?" asked Michael, surprised.

"We have to be at The Burrow in an hour," said Hermione.

"We are still going?"

"Ahem," said Liam, who had been forgotten. "Who's going where? And when?"

"Um, The Weasleys invited us to spend New Year's Eve at their home in Ottery St. Catchpole," said Michael.

"Oh," said Liam. "Michael, you know we have to take care of this as soon as possible."

"I know, I know," said Michael.

"What do you think if we go to Paris tomorrow morning?" asked Liam. "I'm sure it won't take more than a couple of days."

Michael looked at Hermione.

"Don't look at me," she said. "Do what you have to do."

"Okay, Liam. Call my secretary and tell her to take care of the travel arrangements," said Michael.

"Michael, what makes you think your secretary will be working today?" asked Hermione.

"Right," said Michael. "Liam?"

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it," said Liam. "I'll just make a few calls. Be ready to leave by tomorrow morning."

"Okay," said Michael.

"Bye then," said Liam. "Take care, Hermione."

"You too," replied Hermione.

As Liam's head disappeared, Hermione headed upstairs to get ready.

Once she was in her bedroom, she headed to her closet, where she picked out a simple black dress.

"Michael, we have to be ready in thirty minutes!" Hermione called downstairs after taking a shower. Michael quickly went upstairs and entered the closet to get his clothes.

After she got her hair ready (by applying liberal amounts of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion) and putting on some makeup, Hermione picked out some jewellery and put on her dress.

Just as she was grabbing her purse, Michael came out of the bathroom.

"You look absolutely stunning," he said.

Hermione smiled.

"Shall we?" he asked her, offering her his arm.

"We shall," she replied, giggling.

With that, they Apparated to The Burrow.

Once they got to the front of the house, Hermione felt pure joy. She missed the Weasleys. She missed Molly's cooking, Arthur's questioning about Muggles, Fred and George's jokes… She missed The Burrow.

"Well," said Michael, "what are we waiting for?"

Hermione started walking toward the house.

As she approached the door, she heard music playing, laughter, children running around the house.

"Everyone must be already here," she said.

As soon as she knocked the door, Bill answered.

"Hermione! It's been ages!" he said, hugging her.

Hermione beamed.

"You're exaggerating. Er, do you remember Michael?" she asked Bill.

"Of course!" said Bill, shaking Michael's hand. "The fiancé, I've heard," he said, looking at Hermione.

Hermione smirked.

"Hermione, dear!" exclaimed a woman behind Hermione.

As Hermione turned around, she saw Molly Weasley making her way across the room from the kitchen.

"Molly!" she said, giving Molly a hug and a kiss.

"You're… engaged!" Molly exclaimed.

Hermione smiled.

"How are you, Michael?" Molly asked.

"Very good, Mrs. Weasley," replied Michael.

"Well, darlings, welcome," said Molly.

As Hermione entered the living room, she knew where all the noise was coming from.

Fred and Angelina's children –Angie, Matthew, and Ryan- were running around, playing hide and seek with Bill and Fleur's three-year-old son, Philip; Arthur was sitting on his favourite chair next to the wireless, trying to remain awake; Fred and George were talking to Harry in a corner; George's girlfriend, a beautiful, tall, blonde Italian named Paola, was talking to Fleur and Angelina; Ginny was sitting on the couch, talking to Charlie.

When everyone noticed Hermione and Michael's presence, the room went a bit quiet. Then it suddenly erupted in chatter. Everyone was congratulating the newly engaged couple.

The evening went along as planned. Hermione played with the kids, exchanged anecdotes with Harry and Ginny, talked about Fred and George's business and how it was booming, talked about the triplets…

Hermione had the chance to talk to Paola. She had to admit: the girl was smart. She was a student at Oxford University that moved to England when she was ten years old. Although she was a witch, she had decided to attend Oxford to please her Muggle parents. She was studying law.

"Molly, haven't you noticed that every single son of yours falls in love with a foreign woman?" asked Hermione jokingly.

"Well I couldn't say that _every_ son of mine falls in love with a foreign woman," replied Molly, giving Hermione a knowing smile, "but I can _definitely_ say that every son of mine has fallen in love with an extremely talented and charming woman."

Hermione remained silent.

As the clock marked midnight, everyone cheered. Then George raised his voice claiming he had something very important to say.

"Paola," he said, "I've been meaning to ask you a question."

He got down on one knee and took out a ring.

"George… What are you doing?" asked Paola nervously.

"Paola… Will you marry me?" George asked.

"Oh my gosh… Y- Yes!" was Paola's answer.

As George got up and kissed Paola, Hermione saw tears spilling from Molly's eyes.

"We have to celebrate!" Molly said. "I'll get the drinks!"

"Don't worry, Molly," said Hermione. "I'll get them."

"Thanks, dear. The tray is ready on the counter," said Molly.

Hermione nodded and headed to the kitchen.

She spotted the glass tray immediately. As Hermione got out a bottle of champagne, she heard commotion in the living room. As she exited the kitchen, tray in hand, Hermione froze.

Ron was standing right in front of her.

She just stood there, gaping at him. She lost her grip on the tray and everything crashed to the floor. That seemed to bring her back to earth. Hermione clamped her left hand over her heart. She immediately felt Ron's gaze go to her engagement ring.

"Molly, I'm- I'm so sorry…" Hermione said as she bent down to pick up the pieces of shattered glass.

"Oh, don't worry, dear," said Molly, hurrying to help Hermione. "_Reparo!_"

Ginny got up and raised Hermione to her feet. She led her to the kitchen.

"Hermione, are you okay?" asked Michael.

"Oh yes! She's fine!" said Ginny, with a bit of nervous laughter. "She must be tired, that's all!"

As Ginny sat Hermione down on a chair by the kitchen table, chatter slowly started again. Ginny heard Harry tell Ron: "Why don't we take a walk in the garden?" and Arthur saying: "Michael, come and see the new things Fred and George have been working on…"

"Hermione?" Ginny said tentatively. "Are you okay?"

Hermione didn't reply.

"Ginny," said Molly as she entered the kitchen, "get me that vial of Invigoration Draught I have in the cupboard."

"Mum," said Ginny, as she got up, "she's not doing anything."

"Just give it to me," said Molly. Ginny did as she was told.

"Hermione, dear," said Molly, taking Hermione's hand and giving her the potion, "I want you drink this."

Hermione looked at Molly, then at the vial on her hand, and slowly brought the vial to her lips. As soon as she drank the potion, she threw up on the floor.

"Oh, dear," said Molly. "_Scourgify!_"

"Are you alright?" asked Ginny.

"Why did no one tell me Ron was coming?" asked Hermione slowly.

"We didn't know," explained Ginny. "I think Ron wanted to surprise us."

"He certainly surprised me," said Hermione.

"Hermione, does Michael know anything about you and Ron?" asked Ginny.

"No," said Hermione. "We have never talked about previous relationships."

"I don't think you should tell him," said Ginny. "I just don't think it's a good idea."

"I don't plan to," said Hermione as she slowly got up. "I- I better go. Thank you for everything, Molly."

"It was my pleasure," Molly replied, giving Hermione a hug.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Ginny told Hermione. "We have lots to talk about."

"Uh-huh," said Hermione absentmindedly. With that, she exited the kitchen to look for Michael.

After saying goodbye to everyone, congratulating George and Paola, and apologizing for leaving so suddenly (even though everyone told her that her apologies were _not necessary_), Hermione was ready to leave. As she was going to walk out the door with Michael, Ron came in.

"Hello, Hermione," said Ron after a moment of awkward silence.

"Hello, Ron," said Hermione.

"Hello," said Michael, shaking Ron's hand. "I don't believe we've met. I'm-"

"Michael Sandford," Ron interrupted, leaving Michael with a confused expression on his face. "The fiancé. Nice to meet you."

"Er, Michael," said Molly awkwardly, "this is my youngest son, Ron."

"Nice to meet you too, Ron," said Michael politely, although Hermione knew he was trying to remain cool with all his might.

"It was nice seeing you again, Ron," said Hermione quickly. "Good night."

As Hermione and Michael exited The Burrow, Ron walked into the living room. Everyone was staring at him.

"Smooth, Ron. Smooth," said Fred.

---

"What did just happen in there?" said Michael as they walked away from The Burrow.

Hermione didn't reply.

"Hermione, are you listening to me?"

"I- I'm sorry," she said. "I don't feel so good."

"Do you want to head home?"

"No… We have to go to St. Mungo's to be with Beth. Let's go," said Hermione.

In a matter of seconds, they got to London. They were standing outside the window displays of Purge and Dowse Ltd. After entering the hospital they went directly to Beth's room.

Michael's parents were in the waiting room. Mrs. Sandford, a tall, thin blonde who was in her early fifties, stood up immediately after she saw Michael and Hermione.

"Michael! Finally! Beth is _really_ far along," she said.

"Hello to you too, Mother," said Michael.

"Hello, darling," she said, giving him a kiss on each cheek.

"Hello, Mrs. Sandford," said Hermione.

"Hermione, darling, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Elizabeth?"

"Lizzie, dear, she doesn't feel comfortable calling you by your name," said Mr. Sandford, standing up.

Mr. Sandford was a tall, good looking man who, Hermione assumed, could not be over the age of fifty-five.

"Hello, Mr. Sandford," said Hermione.

"How are you, Hermione?" he asked.

"Fine, thank you," Hermione replied. "How's Beth? Is she alone?"

"Oh, she's fine," said Mrs. Sandford. "She's with John."

"And where are the kids?" asked Michael.

"At home with the nanny," replied Mrs. Sandford.

"Can we go in to see her?" asked Hermione.

"Of course, of course, go in," said Mr. Sandford.

Hermione entered the room. Beth was lying on the bed, looking tired. John was sitting by her side.

"Beth!" said Hermione. "How are you?"

"Hermione! Michael! I'm great!" replied Beth. "I'm so glad you're both here!"

"This feels like a routine procedure by now," said John, as he shook Michael's hand.

Michael laughed.

"Sure," said Beth. "Laugh all you want! You're not the ones who have to push a baby through-"

"So Beth!" interrupted Hermione. "How are the kids?" Beth had three boys: Spencer, Marcus, and Andrew. She had always wanted girls; last year, when she found out she was having Andrew, she had to be institutionalized for a month. But even though that was the case, the honest truth was: those boys were her life. Beth was a terrific mother.

"Oh, they're good," replied Beth. "They're really excited."

"Mr. Lancaster?" said the healer standing by the door. "May I come in?"

"Of course," said John.

"How are we doing? Are we ready?" asked the healer.

"Yes, we are," said Beth.

---

An hour later, Beth was just exhausted.

"Okay, Beth," said the healer. "One more push and it's over, don't worry!"

Beth pushed, and just like that, she heard the sound of her baby, crying.

"Oh my goodness!" exclaimed the healer. "Beth, it's a girl!"

"_What?_" said an exhausted Beth. "John, we- we have a girl!" she said through tears.

John smiled at her.

---

After saying goodnight to everyone, Michael and Hermione headed home.

"I feel so happy," said Hermione, leaning against the wall. "Beth has always wanted a girl."

"Yes, I know. She deserves it," said Michael. "Hermione, can I ask you something?"

"Of course," she replied. "What is it?"

"What's the story behind Molly's son, the edgy one? Didn't you and Harry go to Hogwarts with him?"

"Er, yeah, but… he was always much closer to Harry," she said. "I don't know him that well. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason," said Michael. "No reason at all. Let's forget about them. Let's forget about all of them," he said, leaning dangerously close to Hermione. His hands wrapped around her waist as he nuzzled her neck.

"Michael… I'm tired," said Hermione. "I'm not in the mood. I told you I don't feel so good. All this Apparition is making me feel… a bit woozy."

Michael stepped away to look at her. Her face looked a bit pale.

"Are you alright?"

Hermione shook her head, grimacing. Seconds later she threw up in the middle of the corridor, missing Michael by an inch or two.

"Oh God," said Michael. "Let's get you into bed." He picked her up and took her into the bedroom.

---

Hermione woke up at nine a.m. the next day. She felt her head was going to explode. As she looked around the room, she realized that Michael's side of the bed was empty. Then she noticed a note laying on her nightstand, next to a glass of water and a small bottle full of a clear liquid.

_Hermione:_

_I hate leaving you like this but I need to go to Paris to sort this mess out. Please take that potion I left on your nightstand; it's for the huge migraine you must be having right now. I called Ben and he told me he would see you in St. Mungo's at ten. You **must** go and see him; I know it must be nothing, but I don't want you to get even sicker than you are right now. I'll be back in two days. I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye properly. I didn't want to wake you._

_Love, Michael_

"_I knew he would call Ben_," thought Hermione grimly.

She drank the potion Michael left her, but she had a tough time trying to keep it down.

She got up as fast as she could and took a shower. By ten a.m. she was in the hospital.

Benjamin Hunt was one of Michael's oldest friends. He became a healer after graduating from Hogwarts and now he worked in St. Mungo's, treating potion and plant poisoning.

Hermione quickly made her way to the third floor to see Ben.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed when he saw her.

"Hi, Ben," said Hermione. "I'm so sorry about this. I didn't want to bother you but it seems Michael insisted."

"Don't worry about it. You know I don't mind. Let's go inside," he said, referring to a small room.

Inside the room there was a small desk and two chairs.

"So, how are you?" he asked.

"Exhausted," replied Hermione, laughing. "We were up until three a.m. last night."

"Yes, I know," said Ben. "Michael told me Beth gave birth. She had a girl, right?"

"Yes. They named her Charlotte."

"I'm happy for her," said Ben. "Now, about you-"

"Ben, I don't have any-"

"Hermione," he said, "don't make me beg. I promised Michael I would find out what's going on with you, whether it's physical, or emotional, or _both_."

Hermione sighed heavily.

"Look, I'm just going to run a few simple tests to find out what you have. We'll find out in a matter of minutes," said Ben. He stood up and proceeded to draw a sample of blood.

Just as he promised, a _smiling_ Ben was back with Hermione's test results within minutes.

"With that expression you have on your face, I seriously doubt I have a life threatening illness," said Hermione, as Ben sat down behind his desk. "Can I say _I told you so_?"

"You're _definitely_ full of surprises," he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked, very curious.

"Hermione," said Ben, "you're not ill. You're pregnant."

**A/N: I _know_ you people out there are reading so you _must _review! I'm dying to know what you think. Clicking that little button down there won't kill you. Trust me on this one. Please.**


	3. Falling Apart

**Chapter Three**

**Falling Apart**

"Hermione, you're not ill. You're pregnant."

The statement took Hermione aback.

"What are you talking about?" she asked. "Those _can't_ be my test results."

"I ran the tests myself. These _are_ your results."

"No, Ben, you don't understand," said Hermione, laughing nervously. "I'm on the contraceptive potion. I _can't_ be pregnant."

"Hermione," said Ben, "you should know better than anyone that that potion is not a hundred percent effective. Here," he said, giving her the results, "take a look."

Hermione took the papers in her hands and was left speechless.

"But I- I can't be…" she said, clasping a hand over her mouth and looking at Ben in horror.

"I thought you would be happy," said Ben, utterly confused and surprised by Hermione's reaction. He got up and sat down next to her. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Ben! _What's wrong?_ I'm not even married yet!" she said, tears starting to stream down her face, a note of hysteria in her voice. "I can't get pregnant right now! I'm not ready! I can't take care of a baby! I _can't _Ben! I just-"

"Can anyone get me a Calming Draught?" Ben shouted out the door. A healer quickly brought him a vial of the potion.

"You _need_ to calm down," Ben told a hyperventilating Hermione. "This is not doing you any good. Drink this," he said as he passed her the potion. "Please."

Hermione, still sobbing, emptied the vial in one gulp.

"Lie down for a bit," said Ben, conjuring up a small bed. "This is going to make you drowsy. I hate seeing you like this, Hermione," he said, softly rubbing her back.

"I'm sorry," she said, in a whisper. "I- I'm not ready, Ben."

"Don't worry about that now," he said. "I'll be back to check on you later."

After a moment, she fell asleep.

Thirty minutes later, Ben was back, this time with an unexpected visitor.

"Hermione," said Ben, tugging at her sweater, trying to wake her up. "Hermione, wake up."

As Hermione opened her eyes, she was surprised to see Harry sitting next to her on the bed.

"Harry, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"Er, he called me," replied Harry, pointing to Ben. "Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"Um, I'm not sure," she replied sleepily.

"I hope you don't mind," said Ben, "but I remembered Harry was a close friend of yours so I took the liberty of calling him. You needed someone to take you home after you took the Calming Draught."

"Thank you, Ben," said Hermione, sitting up.

"You're welcome. When is Michael coming back?"

"Um, the day after tomorrow, I think," replied Hermione.

"I'll see you soon after, then. Bye," said Ben, as he closed the door behind him.

"Hermione, you look awful," said Harry truthfully. "What happened?"

"Oh, Harry…" said Hermione, giving Harry a wan look.

"Let's go to the house," said Harry. "Ginny is waiting for us there." He picked up her coat and helped her get it on.

"Grip my arm," he told her. "I don't want you to end up in Antarctica." The joke made Hermione smile weakly.

In a few seconds she experienced the familiar feeling of being pushed through a tight rubber tube. She shut her eyes firmly. When the feeling faded she opened her eyes and realized they were standing in front of Harry and Ginny's house.

"Are you alright?" asked Harry.

"Sort of," replied Hermione. "I feel a bit… dizzy."

"Let's go in," said Harry.

When Hermione entered the living room, she saw Ginny sleeping on the couch, a huge bowl of treacle fudge next to her. She laughed softly.

"That's her thing now: treacle fudge," said Harry, smiling. "C'mon. Let's get you settled," he told her, leading her to the guest room.

"Why don't you rest for a bit? You're probably just tired because of the Calming Drought. I'll check on you later."

By the time Harry had exited the room, Hermione had already fallen asleep.

Harry went downstairs to the kitchen. When Ginny heard him rummaging there she woke up.

"What are you doing?" she asked Harry curiously.

"Do we have green tea?"

"What do you want green tea for?"

"It's for Hermione," replied Harry.

"Oh. Is she coming over already? I hadn't realized the time," said Ginny.

"She's sleeping upstairs."

"What? Why? Is she okay?"

"I got a floo call from a healer from St. Mungo's while you were sleeping. He told me that he was a friend of Michael and Hermione and that Hermione had an appointment with him this morning. Something happened and Hermione had some sort of anxiety attack and they had to give her a Calming Drought."

"What happened?" asked Ginny.

"He didn't tell me," said Harry. "He said that it should be Hermione who told me."

"But why did he call _you_?"

"They needed someone to take her home after taking the potion; apparently Michael is in Paris."

"_In Paris?_ What's he doing over there?"

"Ginny," said Harry, trying to keep his patience, "how should I know?"

Ginny glared at him. He ignored her.

"Help me get up," she said.

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere," said Harry. "Healer said bed rest, remember?"

"But this isn't my bed," said Ginny, putting on an innocent face.

Harry gave her a look that would make Professor McGonagall proud.

"Come on! I need to see Hermione!" she begged Harry.

"I helped you come downstairs this morning because I know you get bored from staring at the four walls of our bedroom," he said. "That doesn't mean you can go walking around the house all day."

"But Harry-"

"Don't argue," Harry interrupted. "You know you're not going to win this one."

---

An hour or two after Harry had taken her to his house, Hermione woke up. At first she didn't recognize where she was, but after a few seconds she remembered everything. She got up and went downstairs, where she found Harry and Ginny in the living room. Harry was working at his desk and Ginny was reading What to Expect When You're Expecting _Triplets_.

"Hermione! How are you feeling?" asked a concerned Ginny as soon as Hermione entered the room.

"I'm okay," said Hermione quietly.

"I'll go get the tea," said Harry, standing up.

Hermione sat down next to Ginny on the couch.

Harry came back with the tea and quickly gave Hermione a cup.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked her.

Hermione nodded.

"Hermione," said Ginny very cautiously, "what happened this morning?"

Hermione remained silent, although the tears falling down her cheeks were speaking for her.

"Hermione, please tell us," said Ginny. "You're worrying us."

"Ginny," said Hermione, "I- I don't know what I'm going to do."

"What did that healer tell you this morning?" asked Harry.

"I thought it was nothing, really. But Michael insisted…"

"Hermione, you're not making any sense," said Ginny.

"I'm… I'm pregnant."

"Oh my god," said Ginny, her voice barely a whisper. "Ar- Are you sure?"

Hermione nodded.

There was silence for a few moments and then Harry spoke.

"Hermione, everything is going to be okay," he said.

Hermione shook her head.

"Hermione," said Ginny, "it's not like you're alone. You're getting married soon, money is not really a problem for Michael and–"

"Ginny, it's not about the money!" screamed Hermione, breaking down for the second time that day. "It's not about being married or not! The problem is that I'm not ready to have a baby! I'm too _young_ to have a baby!"

"Hermione, I'm not exactly older than you are… I'm actually two years younger and I'm expecting triplets!"

"But it's so different!" said Hermione. "You two _planned_ this to happen! I just got engaged! This is something Michael and I talked about happening in a _very distant_ future. I'm not supposed to have a baby right now! Don't you understand? _Can't_ you understand?"

Ginny and Harry remained silent. After they managed to calm Hermione down, Ginny was brave enough to speak again.

"Hermione," she said, "I know this is very hard for you. I know you're reacting this way because this was completely unexpected. But you have to think; clear your head, evaluate the situation. If you do that, all the answers to your problems will come to you. You're blocking yourself: you're putting up a barrier in front of yourself. You're going to lose your mind if you keep going like this."

"I just feel so… _lost_," said Hermione quietly. "I don't know if I'm cut out to be a mother."

"Oh, please!" said Ginny. "That's like saying Mum wasn't meant to be a mother!"

Hermione smiled.

"I know you're going to be thrilled about it. Eventually," said Ginny, laughing.

"I think you might be more ready than you think you are," said Harry wisely.

"I hope so," said Hermione. "I really hope you're right."

"Are you feeling better now?" asked Harry.

"Yes. Thank you," Hermione said. "For everything."

"It was no problem for us. You are our best friend," said Harry. "You know that can never change."

Harry gave Hermione a long hug, whispering to her ear "You're going to be a wonderful mother."

These words made Hermione feel much better. From that moment on she knew everything _was_ going to be alright.

"Now," said Ginny, "can we get you anything?"

"No, I'm fine," said Hermione.

"You can stay in the guestroom," said Harry.

"Don't worry about me," said Hermione. "I'm going home to–"

"You're staying here," said Ginny. "There is _no way_ we are letting you go tonight."

Hermione gave Harry an _are-you-going-to-help-me?_ look. Harry replied with a _no-way_ look.

Hermione sighed heavily. "You're both impossible," she finally said, after she figured they were not going to let her go.

---

The rest of the day ran smoothly, considering how the morning went. Hermione helped Harry prepare dinner, with Ginny giving instructions from the couch, something Hermione found very funny.

Hermione was the last to fall asleep that night. Her mind was racing with possible scenarios of what would happen once Michael came back. Would he be happy when he found out? Would he be angry? She didn't know what to expect. It was just a matter of hours before she would find the answer to her question.

---

The following morning Hermione was woken up by Harry, who was wearing an apron with a flower print.

"Hermione, breakfast is ready."

"Okay," said Hermione sleepily. She had to do a double-take when she saw Harry's apron. "You look quite nice in that apron, Mrs. Potter," she said, laughing.

"Shut up," said Harry, smiling.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself. I'll be right down," she said.

But immediately after she got downstairs the smell of scrambled eggs and sausage hit her, she had to run to the loo. A nasty bout of nausea hit her.

"Here," said Harry after she came out of the bathroom, handing her a potion. "Don't ask me what it has. It's what Ginny's healer gave her for the nausea."

"Thanks," said Hermione. "I think I'm going to skip breakfast. Michael will be getting home soon, and I want to be there when he comes back."

"I understand," said Harry. "Good luck."

Hermione kissed Harry goodbye and quickly apparated to Hogsmeade.

---

Hermione entered the house quietly. She headed to the sitting room to light a fire and ponder over her thoughts. She was still worried about Michael's reaction. Just as she sat down on the couch, she heard someone open the door.

"I'm baack," said Michael.

Hermione tried to keep her composure. This was going to be one of the hardest things she would have to do in her life.

"Well look at you!" said Michael. "I decide to come home early so I could surprise you and you're already dressed! I missed you," he said, giving her a kiss.

Hermione remained silent, keeping her eyes fixed on a stain on the carpet.

"What? You didn't miss me?" asked Michael jokingly. After a moment of silence he asked more seriously: "Are you okay?"

Hermione nodded, still keeping her face down.

"No, you're not," said Michael, kneeling down next to her. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Hermione gave him a miserable look.

"Michael, I went to see Ben yesterday."

Michael's face turned ghastly white.

"What happened, Hermione?" he asked, sitting down next to her. "What did he find?"

"Michael, I… I'm pregnant."

Michael stared at her in disbelief.

"I'm _sorry_?"

"I'm pregnant, Michael."

"But I… I thought that… Weren't you taking…?"

"I was taking a contraceptive potion but it failed this time," said Hermione, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Hermione, are you crying?" asked Michael incredulously.

"No," she replied, the tears starting to fall down her cheeks.

Michael laughed softly. "Darling, it's going to be alright. I mean, our timing is a bit… well… _off_, but you can not imagine what you have done. You just made me the happiest man on earth. This is truly the best… _belated_ Christmas present anyone has given me."

Hermione looked at him in amazement. "I thought you… Aren't you worried…?"

"We'll have time to prepare! It's not like you are having this baby right now. Right?"

Hermione laughed.

"I love you, Hermione," said Michael.

"I love you, too," she replied, giving him a kiss.

"Now we just have to tell my mother," said Michael.

"Oh God," said Hermione. "She's going to have a heart attack."

"She'll survive. I hope," said Michael. "She already invited us to the house. It will be best if we go tomorrow."

"So soon?"

"It's better that way. When are you supposed to start work?"

"January 4," replied Hermione.

"The day after tomorrow?" asked Michael.

"Yes."

"How have you been feeling lately?"

"Normal," replied Hermione. "Just the usual morning sickness."

"I see," said Michael. "I think you should talk to Minerva."

"Professor McGonagall? Why?"

"Well, you are going to be absent for many days. And I think we should begin discussing your retirement from Hogwarts," said Michael, standing up and walking towards the fireplace.

"Why would I leave Hogwarts, Michael?"

"Hermione, you know how everybody talks," said Michael. "Besides, I don't want you working. I want you to take care of yourself during this pregnancy. And then when the baby arrives you are going to be too busy to go back to work."

"The fact that I am pregnant does _not_ mean I'm handicapped, Michael! And does the fact that I'm having a child mean that I have to give up my career as a teacher?"

"You can scream and shout all you want, but you are going to do as I say."

"No, I'm n–"

_"Yes, you are!"_ screamed Michael, losing his temper.

Hermione sat frozen on the couch, her eyes wide open in shock.

"I'm… I'm sorry…" said Michael, walking towards Hermione. She quickly raised her hand, as if to tell him he should stay away, and ran to the bedroom.

---

"I thought the idea of reading this book was to get educated, not get scared," Ginny told Harry from behind her copy of What to Expect. "How long ago did you say she left?"

"About an hour. Why?" asked Harry.

"Oh, I was just wondering why she hasn't flooed yet."

"Ginny, it's not like Hermione has to report over here every hour," said Harry.

"I know, I know. It's just that–"

Ginny was interrupted by someone knocking on the door.

"I'll be right there!" yelled Harry, getting up.

He was surprised to see Ron standing at the other side of the door.

"Come in," he said, a bit confused. "I thought you were supposed to be in Australia by now."

"Oh, I'm talking the day off to solve a few personal matters," said Ron.

"What 'personal matters'?" asked Ginny suspiciously.

"Nothing important," replied Ron. "So, what have you two been up to?"

"Oh, nothing new, except –"

_"Can someone please explain to me since when Hermione is engaged?" _Ron demanded.

"So _this_ is what this is all about," muttered Ginny under her breath.

"_Yes_ _Ginevra_, this is what it's all about," Ron snapped back.

"Last time I checked Ron, Hermione was free to do whatever she wanted to do with her life," said Ginny. "You are in no position –"

_"In no position?__ We almost get married!"_

"Oh, for goodness sake, Ron! You were not even _engaged_!"

"She broke off with _me_!"

"_You_ broke her heart!"

_"Ron! Out! Now!"_ said Harry, with a furious voice, from the door.

Once Ron was outside, it was Harry's turn to burst.

"Are you out of you mind? If you keep arguing with her like that you're going to send her to the hospital!"

"I'm sorry," said Ron, turning a light shade of pink.

"Sit down," said Harry, gesturing to the porch swing. "We need to talk."

Once they were seated, Harry shot the first question.

"Why are you reacting this way? I mean why now, after two years?"

"I don't know," said Ron helplessly. "I guess… I'm confused. I mean, two nights ago I thought I had managed to get her out of my mind. And she just… She comes back into my life just like that, with no warning at all. Harry, she looked so... And then to see her wrapped in the arms of that –" he stopped abruptly. Then Harry distinctively heard the word "asshole" escape Ron's lips.

"You cannot _possibly_ be jealous," said Harry in disbelief. "Ron, the break up was two years ago. Hermione is _engaged_. She moved on when you ran away."

"I didn't run away, Harry! Don't you realize this didn't affect Hermione only? Didn't it cross your mind that Hermione broke up with _me_ and it broke my heart?"

"And you didn't do anything about it, did you? I told you that immersing yourself in work was not the answer. I told you going away would make things worse. I told you to talk to her. I told you to tell her how you felt. We all did, Ron. You just didn't want to listen."

Ron remained silent.

"And anyway, what are you going to do about it now? Are you going to ruin this for her? Hermione has been through a lot. You cannot imagine how hard it has been for her to get to where she is," said Harry.

"Where is Mr. Optimism now?" yelled Ginny from the living room.

"I left him yesterday morning at St. Mungo's, Ginny," said Harry.

"Er… could you explain?" asked Ron.

"We are going to have to tell him sometime," said Ginny, who was now standing at the door.

"Ginny, why can't you just stay put?" asked Harry, hurrying to help Ginny sit next to Ron. "How did you even get up?"

"Where there's a will, there's a way," she replied.

"Guys, what do you have to tell me?" asked a very confused Ron.

Harry and Ginny exchanged tense looks.

"Go ahead. I'm waiting," said Ron.

"Ron, yesterday we found out Hermione is pregnant," said Harry bluntly.

"What?" Ron's hurt expression was indescribable.

"I'm very sorry, Ron," said Ginny, who was on the verge of tears.

"I… I have to go," said Ron slowly.

"Oh, Ron, please don't go," said Ginny, pleading. "Don't do anything stupid."

"It's… okay, Ginny," he said. "I… I just need fresh air."

And just like that, Ron disapparated.


	4. Regrets

**A/N: Special thanks to my beta, AurorGirl101.**

**Chapter Four**

**Regrets**

"Hermione, open the door."

Thirty minutes after his outburst, Michael was trying to get Hermione to come out of the room.

"Hermione… Please, answer me. Look, I'm sorry." Michael sighed heavily. "The trip to Paris was a complete disaster. I'm all stressed out. I'm sorry I took my frustrations out on you. Now, would you please open the door?"

It was not after another ten minutes of begging and pleading that the knob on Michael and Hermione's room's door turned and a very angry Hermione came out.

"I'm sorry," said Michael relieved. He tried to kiss her but she pushed him away. "What was that for?" he asked.

"I am still _very_ angry, Michael."

"Then what did you open the stupid door for?"

"I got tired of listening to you. I'm going out for a walk," she said. "And don't you _dare_ follow me."

Hermione went downstairs and grabbed her coat. Then she headed for the High Street.

---

In that cold morning of January, Fred and George Weasley were working hard on their next "big thing". Since they were in their workshop they did not hear when the door to their Hogsmeade store opened to let their youngest brother in. After a few minutes, Fred felt someone's presence and decided to check the front of the store. As he was looking around, he almost had a heart attack when he saw Ron slumped on the floor.

"Merlin, Ron! What are you doing on the floor?" he asked.

Ron did not reply.

"Ron? Are you okay?"

Again, no reply.

"George! Get in here!" Fred yelled.

George came running into the store and was as surprised as his twin brother to see Ron there.

"What the… What's he doing on the floor?"

"Right, because_ I_ would know," replied Fred. "Help me get him up."

Once they sat Ron down, Fred got a glass of water.

"Ron?"

No response.

"He looks like an Inferius," said George.

"_Ron!_"

That seemed to make him come back.

"What's going on, mate?" asked Fred.

"She's… _pregnant_."

"What? Who is?" asked George, confused.

"She's _what_?" asked Fred in disbelief. "You must be joking."

"How is it you know what he's talking about?" asked George.

"Come on, George. Look at the state he's in. Who could it _possibly_ be?"

"_No…"_ said George in shock, something in his head suddenly falling into place.

"She's _pregnant_," Ron kept saying.

"Come on, Ron, lets get you a _strong_ cup of coffee," said Fred. "Give me a hand, George."

---

Hermione walked the cold streets of Hogsmeade at a fast pace. The morning looked bleak, somehow reflecting her mood. She was heading to The Three Broomsticks, a place where she found herself often, sometimes having a chat about last week's test with a student over a butterbeer, other times just to get away from Michael after a row.

As she entered the pub, she was surprised to see just a few people sitting around and having a drink, but then she took a glance at her watch and noticed it was only 9:20 a.m.

"Hermione, my dear! How nice to see you!" said Madam Rosmerta warmly.

"Good morning, Rosmerta," said Hermione quietly.

"Having a good year so far?" asked Rosmerta cautiously. Hermione started wondering whether she looked too bad or if Rosmerta had mastered the art of legilimency.

"It could be better," Hermione replied.

"Take a seat! What can I offer you? I reckon it is too early for a pint of butterbeer?"

"It is too early indeed," said Hermione. "But a cup of tea would be nice."

"I saw you and Michael in last week's _Witch Weekly_! You looked beautiful," said Rosmerta truthfully.

"Oh, thank you. We were at a benefit gala for an organization the Sandfords sponsor."

Hermione had gotten accustomed to this. Her relationship with "the most eligible bachelor in Britain" (according to _Witch Weekly_) had been highly publicized by the magazines of the wizarding community. She was practically a socialite now. Almost every week she had some event to attend with Michael. Her closet was worthy of a princess: Michael had bought her the most beautiful gowns and jewellery ever made, which made her top _Witch Weekly_'s best dressed list (something she had always found quite amusing.)

"Where did you spend New Year's Eve?" asked Rosmerta.

"At The Burrow, with the Weasleys."

"Really? How's Molly?"

"She's doing gre–"

"Merlin's beard! Look at that ring of yours! When did Michael propose?"

"Er… Christmas morning," said Hermione, taken aback.

"Well, congratulations. I'm very happy for you," said Rosmerta, handing her a cup of tea.

"Thank you," said Hermione quietly, settling down at a table by the window.

She didn't know why, but Rosmerta's tea always appeared to make her think more clearly. She needed it more than ever today.

It seemed amazing to her how her life had changed so much in so little time. She told herself she shouldn't worry about her pregnancy anymore. This was going to happen someday; it just happened a little too soon. It was something that she had wanted all her life: a family. And she was finally going to have it. With someone she _cared_ about… a lot.

All the doubts she had been having about Michael and Ron were out the window now. It was as if the decision had already been made for her. She figured it was all for the best; thinking about Ron was pointless anyway. Ron was just another chapter of her life. A _closed_ chapter of her life, right?

---

It took some time, but Fred and George finally got Ron talking.

"I _knew_ this was going to happen," said Ron.

"Well, in that case, maybe you have a chance of getting a job as Professor Trelawney's assistant," joked George.

"It's not funny! I _lost_ her, George!" screamed Ron furiously. "To some snobbish, billionaire asshole that doesn't care about her! I just can't bear the thought of him… _kissing_ her and… Don't you get it? We were supposed to be together forever."

"You lost her two years ago, mate. I thought you had moved on," said Fred.

"It's too hard to move on," said Ron.

"Maybe this is–"

"Ginny has to help me get her back," said Ron, interrupting George. He stood up, turned around, and just like that, he apparated back to his sister's house.

"Harry! Ginny! Open the door!"

Ron heard someone running toward the door. The door opened to reveal a panting Harry trying to catch his breath.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I need to talk to Ginny," said Ron, entering the house quickly. "Where is she?"

"Ron! You almost gave us a heart attack!" said Harry. Ron ignored him and went into the living room, where Ginny looked as worried as Harry. Harry proceeded to sit down next to his wife.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Ginny, you have to help me get her back."

"Oh, Ron…"

"Listen to me," Ron insisted. "You told me I broke her heart. Ginny I don't _know_ how I broke her heart. I didn't do anything wrong. She–"

"Okay, Ron. Stop it right there," said Ginny, sitting up. "First, you have to understand something very important."

Ron nodded reluctantly.

"Ron, you _did _break her heart. You _did_ hurt her feelings. The mere fact that you distanced yourself from her and that you put your work ahead of her… It killed her."

"I didn't mean to hurt her, Ginny. I just got so involved in work and in my studies–"

"I know you didn't mean for any of this to happen," said Ginny. "I'm certain of it. But you made matters worse, Ron. She tried to wake you up. When she tried to make you realize–"

"_Not once_ did she talk to me about this!"

"The night you two went out to dinner in London, Ron! The night you broke up! The night she decided she had had enough! Remember what happened when you got up to take that floo call from the Ministry? She was trying to tell you then!" Ginny knew she had hit a nerve when she saw Ron's face. He looked as if he had received a punch way below the belt.

"How do you know that?" he asked her, completely surprised.

"Hermione told me, Ron," said Ginny, looking at her brother sadly.

Ron remained quiet for a couple of minutes.

"She started crying… She stood up and left," he finally said. He had a hurt expression on his face, but this was something neither Ginny nor Harry had seen before. He looked as if he were about to cry.

"Ron, Hermione felt as if she wasn't important in your life anymore."

"Ginny, I don't understand. How did I make things worse?"

"You didn't go after her. You simply left. What was left of Hermione after that was just… the shell of a person."

And then it hit him.

"I screwed it up."

---

As Hermione walked towards her house, she wondered what her life would be like from now on. She started thinking about Michael's parents. She was going to Bedford tomorrow with Michael to break the big news, and Hermione was _certain_ his mother was going to _flip_.

That is when she remembered something very important: when visiting your future mother-in-law you had to dress impeccably, especially if your mother-in-law was Elizabeth Sandford. Hermione had to hand it to her: the woman had a spectacular wardrobe. _Not once_ had Hermione seen her repeat an outfit. Well, since Mrs. Sandford was a "highly respected" member of the British society (both muggle and wizarding) maybe that was a pre requisite. Elizabeth's regular shopping schedule included muggle stores like Harrods and Harvey Nichols, the first being her favourite. She had a special ability to spend thousands of pounds just one day in Harrods.

All of this meant that Hermione had to look for something exceptionally classy to wear tomorrow.

Hermione quickly went to her room and what she saw next made her gasp.

There were _several_ vases of white roses around the room. There must have been at least 15.

There was a note on her nightstand. Obviously, it was from Michael.

_Hermione, I'm deeply sorry. Please forgive me. I love you with all my heart._

_Michael_

"I really _am_ sorry," said Michael, who was now standing behind Hermione.

Hermione sighed, turning around. After a long silence she said, "I know you are."

"Each rose represents how sorry I am. So, as you can see, I'm 500 times sorry," he told her. "Well, actually, these were all the roses I could get in such a small period of time. I'm more than a thousand times sorry."

"You are out of your mind. How did you get so many flowers?"

"Well, darling, a magician never reveals his secrets."

---

As Hermione turned to see the clock in her nightstand, she realized it was almost 11 a.m.

"Michael! Wake up! Look at the time! We have to be in Bedford in an hour!"

"Oh, fuck," mumbled Michael sleepily. "Well, you tend to keep me up well into the night, what can I say?" he told her, smirking.

"Watch the language, Michael," said Hermione, smirking as well. "And get up! We're already late!" She ran into her closet to pick out the outfit she was going to wear today.

Fifteen minutes later, Michael came out of his closet (which was on the opposite side of the room; across from Hermione's closet), ready to go. He was dressed in jeans, a brown, silk jacket, and a pin-tucked tuxedo shirt. When he went into Hermione's closet, he couldn't help but laugh.

Hermione was standing in front of two sets of clothes and was considering each one intently. She was still dressed in her bathrobe and her hair was wrapped in a towel.

"You're not dressed yet?" he asked.

"Michael! Don't laugh! It's very difficult, you know!" she said, her face turning a light shade of pink.

"Well? What do you think?" she asked.

"You will look great in either one," said Michael.

"Michael! That doesn't help much you know!"

"That Valentino coat looks nice," he offered. "And I think that white trench coat looks too formal."

"Okay, the Valentino coat it is."

Ten minutes later Hermione went downstairs dressed in a tan skirt and a white jumper, and of course, her red, tweed Valentino coat.

"Okay, I'm set," she said. "Where's the Floo Powder?"

"Um, I was thinking… Maybe we could take the Jag?"

Michael was referring, of course, to his £50,040 S-Type R Jaguar, which he had bought a year ago, the minute the Ministry for Magic had started regulating cars as means of magical transportation, at the insistence of wizards like Arthur Weasley. It was his most valued possession; his "baby". His father had a matching one.

"Are you insane? We'll never get to Bedford on time!"

"We can send an owl to tell them we're going to take a while longer," Michael pleaded. "Come on, the day is beautiful!"

"Why don't we Apparate? I _hate_ flooing," said Hermione, ignoring Michael's pleas.

"You can't Apparate," said Michael.

"And why is that?"

"Well, darling, you're pregnant."

"Michael, that doesn't matter yet. I don't even _know_ how far along I am."

"Please," begged Michael. "Let's take the Jag out for a spin."

He looked like a little kid. Hermione couldn't resist.

"Okay, let's go," she said reluctantly.

Two _painfully_ long hours later, Michael pulled into his parents' driveway.

Hermione loved the Sandford Estate. It was beautiful, especially in the spring. The Sandfords had a stable, a Quidditch pitch, and even a "small" field they used to play polo with their muggle friends. They didn't have a pool, but they _did_ have a lake. The sight of the Sandford Manor was breathtaking: a beautiful ivy-clad "house" that had been the site of many of the parties Elizabeth Sandford regularly hosted.

The household staff Mrs. Sandford had was impressive. It was her little army (Hermione had always thought this was perfect for her, since she always liked to control the world around her.) Three maids (_not_ counting the housekeeper), four gardeners, and two veterinarians that visited the horses regularly made up the _basic_ staff.

When they got out of the car, Mary, the housekeeper, was waiting for them at the door.

"Good afternoon, Mary," said Michael politely.

"Good afternoon, sir," she replied. "Hello, miss."

"Hello, Mary," said Hermione.

"How was your trip?"

"Oh, it was wonderful, thank you for asking," said Michael.

"Your mother is expecting you in the north sitting room," said Mary.

"Okay. Thanks."

As they walked the halls of the manor, Hermione started to feel nervous. She did not know what to expect once Michael's parents found out their firstborn was about to give them another grandchild. Well, she would find out soon enough.

"Michael! You're finally here!" exclaimed his mother the minute they walked into the room.

"Hello, Mother."

"Hermione! You're practically glowing! And let me tell you, that ensemble looks amazing on you," said Mrs. Sandford, giving Hermione a kiss on each cheek.

"Thank you," replied Hermione timidly.

"Peter! They're here!" yelled Mrs. Sandford.

Mr. Sandford came into the room soon after, looking as proper as always.

"Hello!" he said cheerfully, giving _both_ Hermione and Michael a kiss. Michael always said his father was too affectionate.

"We'll have lunch as soon as Beth gets here with John and the kids," said Mrs. Sandford. "Have a seat. Mary! The tea!"

Hermione and Michael sat down in the oversized sofa nervously as Mary served tea.

"Um, Mum, Dad, we have to tell you something," said Michael. Hermione felt as if she were going to faint.

"I'm all ears, darling," said Mrs. Sandford distractedly.

"Well, you see, Hermione and I want you to know… that…"

"Out with it!" said Mrs. Sandford impatiently.

"Hermione is pregnant."

The tea cup that fell to the floor (Mrs. Sandford's) broke the silence.

"_What?"_ she shrieked, standing up. "Michael! What is everybody going to say? My friends! A child out of wedlock! For Merlin's sake! I won't be able to show my face in public ever again!"

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. Not because she felt bad, but because of the rage she felt towards Elizabeth Sandford. How _dare_ she say all of those things! How could she not think of anyone but herself!

"Elizabeth! Sit down! _Now!_" shouted Mr. Sandford, his voice echoing across the room. "I swear, if I hear your _bloody_ mouth again…" Then he turned to face Michael and Hermione.

"Michael, Hermione, those are great news; one of the most thrilling news one can hear. I could not be happier, or prouder," he said, with a sincere, broad smile. He stood up and gave Michael and Hermione hug.

Mrs. Sandford sighed dramatically.

"Oh well, I guess I overreacted. I… apologize," she said. "And I wish to say that I'm proud and happy _as well_," she said. "But I'm sure you'll agree with me in the fact that we ought to have this wedding within the next month if we want Hermione to fit in a dress at all."

"February?" asked Hermione, taken aback.

"Yes! We could make some sort of winter-themed wedding! Swarovski crystal, ice sculptures, the whole works!" said Mrs. Sandford, getting carried away.

"But I was thinking maybe April or May…"

"Well, darling, it's different now. You're pregnant," said Mrs. Sandford.

"I think she's right," said Michael.

"But it's too soon. I can't plan a wedding in a month!" said Hermione desperately.

"Well, Hermione, you obviously don't know Lizzie," said Mr. Sandford. "This woman can plan a wedding in a week!"

Hermione was left speechless.

"But what about Harry and Ginny?" she asked.

"What about them?" asked Michael.

"Well, Ginny was going to be my maid of honour, and if the wedding is next month she can't go. She's supposed to stay in bed until the babies are born."

"Oh, that's a shame!" said Mrs. Sandford, feigning disappointment.

"Hermione, I'm sorry but it's true what Mum says. We should get married soon. The sooner the better."

"I know, but can't it wait until late March, at least?"

"Another thing," said Mrs. Sandford, interrupting them. "Peter and I were thinking about throwing an engagement party for you, but now I don't know if we should do it. It would be to close to the actual wedding."

"Well, it's simple," said Mr. Sandford. "We can have the engagement party two weeks from now and have the wedding three weeks from then," he said, checking his agenda. "I don't see a problem with that. Why don't we have the wedding on February 12? It's a Sunday. It could work."

"What do you say, Hermione?" asked Michael.

"Al… right," she said, not believing what was coming out of her own mouth. "February 12 it is."

"What's happening on February 12?" asked a woman from behind.

Hermione turned around and saw a beaming Beth with Charlotte in her arms. John was pushing a triple pushchair with a sleeping Andrew and Spencer inside and he was carrying Marcus with his free arm.

She was surprised to see Beth in such fine shape. She looked gorgeous. She was wearing an aqua shirt, ivory pleated skirt, and the most perfect sling back heels Hermione had ever seen. Her aqua and golden brocade coat finished the flawless look, accented with rabbit fur. If Hermione hadn't known any better she would have thought Beth was a model coming from a fashion show, not the hospital.

"Beth!" said Mrs. Sandford. "You're here! You're finally here!"

"Hello, everyone," said Beth. "No one has answered my question yet. What's happening on Feb–" She stopped abruptly when she noticed something about Hermione.

"Oh my God! You're pregnant!" It was a statement, not a question.

"_How do you know?_" asked Hermione completely surprised.

"You are! I'm going to be an aunt!" she said, handing Charlotte to her mother and going over to where Hermione was standing to give her a hug and a kiss.

For the first time in days Hermione was beaming.

_She was going to be a mum._

**A/N: I want to thank those wonderful reviewers of mine. I always look forward to reading what you guys have to say. It makes what I do worthwhile. I know I take a lot of time writing and I want to thank you for your incredible patience :) Thanks for sticking around week after week. And to those of you who haven't reviewed: what is taking you so long?**


	5. Breaking News

**Chapter Five**

**Breaking News**

"Michael, I'm leaving," Hermione whispered.

"What time is it?" he mumbled.

"It's a quarter to seven."

Hermione was already dressed and ready to go to Hogwarts. Today she was going to talk to Professor McGonagall. She was going to announce her engagement, wedding and pregnancy. _All at the same time._

"Good luck," said Michael sleepily.

Hermione decided to apparate to the front of the school, since it was freezing outside. Once she found herself in front of the main gates, she proceeded to walk towards the castle quickly.

As she approached the Headmistress' office, she practiced the speech in her head. She became nervous. It would be very difficult to resign from a post she loved so much, but after a couple of hours Michael had managed to persuade her.

_He has a point_, she thought. She wanted to be with the baby indefinitely after the birth, and she certainly did not want a nanny to take care of it. She didn't feel comfortable thinking that a stranger would raise her baby. So the only solution to their problem was that Hermione stayed home.

After muttering the password and going up the stairs, Hermione knocked softly on Professor McGonagall's door.

"Come in," said McGonagall.

"Good morning, Professor," said Hermione.

"Good morning, Hermione. How were the holidays?"

"They… they were good," said Hermione.

"So, what is the purpose of your visit? You don't usually come to visit me at seven in the morning. Sit down."

"Well… Professor, I… I really have no idea where to start," said Hermione anxiously.

"Just… say it," said Professor McGonagall, surprisingly, smiling.

"Well, Michael proposed over Christmas," said Hermione, loosening a bit.

"Really? That's wonderful news! Congratulations," the professor replied earnestly.

"We are getting married next month."

"Oh," said McGonagall, taken aback. "Next month? Well, that is an awfully short time to plan a wedding."

"Well, Professor… It's his mother… Well, um the fact is, that, um…"

"Yes?"

"Professor McGonagall, I'm pregnant."

There was a moment of silence.

"I'm sorry? I didn't quite catch that," said Professor McGonagall slowly.

"I'm pregnant. His mother is pressuring us to get married by next month."

"Oh, my… Hermione, you're _pregnant_?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well… congratulations! I'm happy for you!"

"Thank you. Well… Professor, there is something else."

"Oh, dear… What is it?"

"I have discussed this with Michael and we both agree it would be better if I resign from my post as the Transfiguration Professor."

There was a long pause.

"I don't understand," said McGonagall. "Why?"

"Well, the thing is, I really won't be able to plan a wedding while teaching," said Hermione, "and after the wedding I'm going on my honeymoon, which is probably going to be about two months long. After I come back I will have to start making room for the baby, and after I give birth I want to spend as much time possible with it."

"I see. Well, you can't imagine how sorry I am to hear that," said the professor sincerely. "We're all going to miss you. _Especially_ your students."

Hermione smiled.

"Are you sure about this? Don't you want to think it over?"

"I've already decided."

"Then you should know that our doors will always be open for you."

"Thank you," said Hermione.

"You can leave as soon as Friday," said McGonagall. "I'm sure we'll manage to find a Transfiguration professor by then. Are you going to class after this meeting is over?"

"Yes."

"Are you planning to tell the students about your pregnancy?"

"I'm just going to announce my engagement," said Hermione.

"Very well, then," said McGonagall. "Is there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?"

"No, that was about it," said Hermione.

"I want to thank you, Hermione. You have been a wonderful teacher, one of the best I have ever seen. And one of the best students Hogwarts has ever had."

"Thank _you_, Professor. For everything."

After the somewhat awkward meeting with McGonagall, Hermione found herself waiting for her next class in her office. She couldn't concentrate. She felt awful now that she had quit her job. But she knew it was for the best, just like Michael had said.

After a few minutes she got tired of waiting and took a look at the clock. 8:40 a.m. She had just enough time to go and send an owl to Ginny to tell her she was going over to visit this evening.

_I'll go by the house after school. Big news._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

---

"Harry can you put that pillow under my feet please?"

"Honestly, Ginny, I know you can't do it yourself but can you just stop interrupting me every five minutes? I'm supposed to be working," said Harry, who was seated at his desk surrounded by mounds of paperwork.

"Oh, Harry, your work hours are over by now," said Ginny. Harry worked as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries.

"I have to make up for every time I got interrupted during the day," he replied.

"I'm sorry! I know you hate working from home because you get stuck with all the paperwork and then I interrupt you too much but I can't stay with Mum all day. I won't be able to stand it," said Ginny.

"What are we going to do when the babies are born? I have to go back someday and you can't deal with three babies all by yourself," said Harry.

"I guess I'll have to go crazy, then," said Ginny.

"Oh, please, Molly is _not_ that bad."

"Well, obviously you haven't been with her for a whole day."

A knock from the door interrupted the conversation.

"I guess this day is over for me," said Harry, putting away the papers he was working on. He stood up to open the door.

"Hi, Harry," said Hermione, who stood freezing at the Potters' front door.

"Hi," said Harry. "Come in before you freeze to death. Ginny is in the living room."

Hermione quickly walked over to the living room and gave Ginny a hug and a kiss.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Like labour cannot come soon enough," replied Ginny. "I'm getting _really_ uncomfortable. But how are _you_ feeling?"

"I'm okay," said Hermione wanly.

"Oh, when you say it like that I can really see you mean it," said Ginny sarcastically.

"I quit my job today," said Hermione.

"_What?_" asked Ginny. "You love your job! How could you quit?"

"I talked to Michael and we both agreed it was for the best."

"Screw Michael!" exclaimed Ginny.

"Oh, Ginny, please…" said Harry.

"Is that really what you want?" continued Ginny. "You were so happy about your job! I can't believe you quit!"

"Ginny, I just have too much going on in my life right now; I can't go to work just when I feel like it."

"What is so important that requires your absence from work?" asked Ginny.

"I went to see Michael's parents to Bedford yesterday," said Hermione, ignoring Ginny.

Ginny sighed heavily.

"What did they say?" asked Harry.

"Oh, his mother completely flipped," said Hermione matter-of-factly. "But at least his father was 'happy' about it."

"I'm sorry," said Ginny.

"Oh, Ginny, don't be sorry for that. Be sorry for the fact that I'm getting married next month," said Hermione, her voice breaking as she started to cry.

Ginny looked at Harry in utter shock.

"What?" asked Harry when Ginny was left speechless.

"That's why I had to quit. I have to plan a wedding in less than a month, I'll be on my honeymoon when I'm through with that, and then I won't be able to go to Hogwarts because I'll be too pregnant by then," said Hermione, trying to dry her face as she talked. "They all think it's the best thing to do."

"They can't make you do this, Hermione! You can't let them!" said Ginny, who had also started to cry.

"They already did," said Hermione.

"But, Hermione! If the wedding's next month, that means that I… It means that we…" Ginny choked on a sob, covering her face with her hands. Hermione stood up and hugged her.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny!" said Hermione, sobbing as well. "I wanted you to be my maid of honour and everything!"

"No, _I'm_ sorry!" said Ginny. And they just sat there, hugging each other, leaving Harry feeling awkward.

After a few minutes the tears had stopped flowing and everybody was quiet.

"I really _am_ sorry," said Hermione. "I tried… But they just kept pushing me and pressuring me…"

"I know, Hermione," said Ginny.

"You were going to be my guests of honour!" said Hermione, starting to cry again.

"It's okay," said Harry.

"No! It's not okay!" said Hermione angrily. "You should both be there with me on my wedding day! You're my family!"

"I wish I could be there," said Ginny sadly, "but I'm too far along to be moving from place to place."

"I understand," said Hermione quietly.

"Hey, Mum wanted me to tell you that you are invited to dinner next Sunday," Ginny told Hermione, trying to lighten the mood by changing the subject. "Michael is invited as well, of course. Everybody is going to be there…"

"Ginny, I really don't think that's a good idea," said Hermione, trying to dry her face.

"Ron's not going," said Ginny. "He has to go to Australia."

Hermione smiled, looking at Ginny curiously.

"Why is it that you automatically assume this has to do with Ron?" she asked.

"Because it _does_ have to do with Ron, doesn't it?" said Ginny.

Hermione's smile faded. She nodded slowly.

"Please come, Hermione. We all miss you terribly. Even I'm going, although I'm not supposed to. I begged Harry," said Ginny, giggling. "_Please…_"

"Alright, alright," said Hermione, "but I'm doing this only for you and Molly."

Ginny grinned.

---

"What took you so long?" demanded Michael, getting up from the couch.

"Hello to you, too," replied Hermione.

"I have been worried sick about you!"

"What are you talking about? I left you a message with your secretary!"

"Susan?"

"Yes! I specifically remember telling her to tell you I was going to visit Harry and Ginny after school."

"I never… Oh, never mind," said Michael quickly.

"What?" asked Hermione, curious.

"It's nothing," said Michael. "I'm sorry. Forget about it. Anyway… How was your day?"

"I talked to Professor McGonagall."

"And? What did she say?"

"Well, I took her by surprise. She was a bit shocked at first but afterwards she was very understanding. She told me I was free to go after Friday."

"That's good. What about your students?"

"Oh, they were thrilled. Well, the girls were," said Hermione, smiling.

"Why? Are you _that _bad?"

"No! It's just that they're happy, because according to them, I'm marrying a 'regulation hottie.' Oh, and they're just _dying _to meet you."

Michael laughed.

"Yeah, I know," said Hermione. "I laughed too… Um, I'm going to bed. I'm very tired."

"Okay," said Michael. "I'll be upstairs in a bit. Have a good night."

And with that, Hermione went to her room.

---

Sunday arrived rather quickly. Hermione felt it arrived a little _too_ soon. On Friday, the faculty and staff of the school threw her a surprise going-away party that _really_ made Hermione cry a lot. And her students were sobbing with her as she promised she would visit often.

Now she was standing in front of The Burrow, gathering up the courage to walk up to the door and knock.

After a couple of minutes she knocked softly on the door. She was _very_ nervous. What would they say when they saw her? What if they could tell she was pregnant right away?

"You're paranoid," she told herself.

A few seconds later Bill opened the door with Philip (who was drinking milk from a bottle) in his arms.

"Hi," said Hermione. "_Hello_, Philip!"

The three year old grinned brightly.

"Hello," said Bill, giving her a one-armed hug. "Michael's not with you?"

"No, he… couldn't come."

"Well, come in," said Bill. "Mum's in the kitchen trying to teach Charlie how to cook."

"Uncle Charlie has a _knew_ _erlfriend_," said Philip.

Bill and Hermione laughed.

"Does he?" asked Hermione looking at Bill.

He nodded.

"Hello," said Hermione as she entered the kitchen. "How is the cooking lesson going?"

"Hermione, dear! You made it!" exclaimed Molly, giving Hermione a kiss. "How are you? Everything okay? You look very nice."

"Thank you," said Hermione. "Hi, Charlie."

"Hi," he replied.

"What is this I'm hearing about a new girlfriend?"

"Who told you?" asked Charlie quickly.

"Philip," replied Hermione, trying to contain her laughter.

"He catches on fast," mumbled Charlie.

"Where is everybody?" asked Hermione.

"Fleur is in the living room with Bill and Philip. The rest are on their way," said Charlie.

"Arthur is getting dressed," said Molly.

"Can I help with anything?" asked Hermione.

"Just sit," said Molly. "We have everything under control. Besides, Charlie needs practice."

"When are we going to meet your new girlfriend, Charlie?" asked Hermione.

"You're not," replied Charlie.

"He doesn't want us to meet her!" said Molly, sounding offended.

"Poor bloke thinks we're going to scare her away," said Bill, coming into the kitchen.

"It's not that," said Charlie seriously. "It's just too early to bring her here."

"Hello everyone!" said Fred from the living room.

"Nana!" yelled Matt, Angie, and Ryan in unison, running into the kitchen.

"My darlings! How are you!" exclaimed Molly, giving each one of them a kiss.

"Matt and Ryan keep teasing me!" said Angie.

"Boys! You should take care of your little sister," said Molly.

"They should know that," said Angelina, coming into the kitchen and sitting down next to Hermione. "Hi, Hermione."

"Hi," said Hermione, smiling. "Quite a handful, aren't they?"

"Oh, you get used to it after a while. How are you?"

"Everything's fine," said Hermione.

Shortly after that, George and Paola arrived, and a few minutes after them, Ginny and Harry made their grand entrance.

"Okay, everyone! Dinner is ready!" yelled Molly from the kitchen.

Everybody sat down and began to eat.

"Everything looks delicious, Molly," said Hermione.

"Thanks, dear, but of course I can't take all the credit. Charlie helped a lot."

After dinner, everyone sat by the fire in the living room, chatting and _not_ noticing the time.

"Hermione, tell me, have you settled on a date yet?" asked Molly.

That was the precise question Hermione did not want to hear.

"Mum, it's too soon–"

"It's okay, Ginny," said Hermione calmly. "Yes, Molly, we decided to get married on February 12."

"But that's so soon!" exclaimed Molly.

"Well, I… I have to make an announcement," said Hermione.

Everybody remained silent.

"I'm having a baby."

"A baby!" shrieked Molly. "Hermione! That is wonderful!" She quickly stood up and gave Hermione a hug and a kiss. As Molly held her, Hermione began crying.

"Shh, it's alright," said Molly, rubbing Hermione's back.

"I'm so sorry. _It's these bloody hormones!_" sobbed Hermione. "I just… I thought you would be disappointed."

"Well, only a little," said Molly, smiling warmly. "Babies come after marriage, after all."

"That's why we are getting married so soon," explained Hermione, drying her tears with a tissue Harry gave her. "Gosh… I thought you would go mad."

"Well, she took it a lot better than Ron did," said George.

"Oh, George..." mumbled Paola, covering her face with her hands.

Hermione froze.

"What?" she managed to ask. "Ron… _knows?_"

"Yes," said the Twins in unison.

"Merlin… It was priceless. We thought he would kill–"

"Fred!" yelled Ginny. "Stop! Honestly! Opening your mouth is the equivalent of messing things up!"

While this little argument took place, Hermione sat motionless on her seat.

"Hermione," asked Ginny, "are you okay?"

She nodded.

"I just… I never thought about Ron finding out."

"I told him," said Harry.

"We both did," said Ginny. "We thought he should know."

"It's okay," said Hermione.

"Hermione, do you want some tea?" asked Molly.

"No, I'm fine," said Hermione. "I… I should go. Michael is waiting for me."

"Stay a little longer," pleaded Ginny.

"I can't. I'm exhausted," said Hermione. "Dinner was wonderful, Molly. Thanks for having me."

"You can have dinner here as much as you want. You do not need an invitation," said Molly.

"Thanks," said Hermione, smiling wanly. "Bye, everyone."

"Bye," everybody said in unison.

---

Hermione got to Hogsmeade quickly. She arrived just a few steps away from the house's front gate.

As she passed through the garden she noticed the house was dark.

"That can't be," she said to herself.

As she entered the house she confirmed her suspicion: Michael was not home and apparently he had been gone for a while, because there was no trace of a fire in the living room's fireplace and the kitchen was spotless.

After waiting for an hour, Hermione decided she wouldn't worry about Michael and went to bed. She was exhausted, and she would need energy to get through the next day.

Tomorrow was going to be the first day of her unemployed life.


	6. Planning and Preparing

**Chapter Six**

**Planning and Preparing**

After a good night's sleep, Hermione woke up at ten the next morning.

There were no signs of Michael, but the messy sheets next to her told her that he had slept next to her that night.

She slowly got up and grabbed her robe, heading for the kitchen.

As she switched on the kettle, the doorbell rang.

Hermione sighed heavily, hoping that it wasn't Elizabeth Sandford standing at the other side of the door.

But it was Beth.

"Hi!" she said brightly.

"Hi! Good Morning! Come in!" said Hermione.

"Did I wake you up?" asked Beth.

"No! I'm making tea. Let's go into the kitchen," said Hermione. "How are the boys and Charlotte?"

"Oh, well they're fine. At home with the nannies."

"Nannies? As in more than one?" asked Hermione, surprised.

"Well, we had to hire two more."

"Gosh, that must be expensive," said Hermione.

"It is," said Beth matter-of-factly, "but I barely notice these days. Before I forget, I got you the number of my healer… Well, he's not _really_ a healer… He's a doctor, an ob/gyn. I thought you would need it eventually so I brought you his card. You don't mind if he's a Muggle doctor, do you?"

"No. But why did you pick an ob/gyn over a healer?" asked Hermione.

"Well, because these people are actually _trained_ to deal with pregnancy. It didn't make much sense to me to get someone that specializes in magical maladies and injuries to deliver my baby and take care of me during my pregnancy. The only reason I had Charlotte in St. Mungo's was because John got paranoid at the last minute," explained Beth.

"Yes, it does make sense," said Hermione.

"Listen, the reason I'm visiting for is that I want to take you shopping to London today," said Beth. "We are going to look for at invitations for the engagement party _and_ the wedding, and we are going to get you the most amazing engagement dress ever. What do you think?"

"That's great," said Hermione. "Um, did your parents decide on a date for the party yet?"

"Yes. Mum told me they are throwing the party on January 15."

"You mean next Monday?"

"Yes. Why? Too soon?" asked Beth.

"No. It's fine. It just means I have a lot of work to do," said Hermione.

"Oh, Mum said you shouldn't worry about that. She'll take care of the engagement party."

"Oh, okay," said Hermione. "Um, I'm going to get dressed."

Ten minutes later, Hermione was making her way down the stairs.

"I'm ready," she told Beth.

"Well, let's go."

"Are we apparating?" asked Hermione.

"Well, since you can't apparate anymore and floo powder is too messy, at least for me, I asked Hugo to give us a lift," said Beth.

"Who's Hugo?" asked Hermione.

"My driver," said Beth.

"He is going to take us all the way to London?" asked Hermione.

"Sure. We'll be there quickly enough," said Beth.

And to Hermione's utter amazement, Beth was right.

Hugo dropped them off in front of Harrods, where Beth said she had made an appointment. After meeting their hostess, they headed over to the women's wear area.

After trying on numerous dresses, Hermione became frustrated. She was yet to be impressed by a dress.

"Let me see if one of my employees can help us," said the hostess. "Christine, can you come over here for a minute?"

The young girl came quickly.

"Yes?"

"Do you think you can find something for her," said the hostess, pointing at Hermione, "for her engagement party? A cocktail dress or something?"

"I think I have just what you're looking for," said Christine. "I'll be right back."

Within a couple of minutes Christine came back.

"Oh my…" gasped Hermione.

Christine was carrying one of the most beautiful dresses she had ever seen.

"Hermione!" exclaimed Beth. "This is _it_!"

Hermione tried it on the minute it touched her hands.

As she saw herself in the mirror, she could not believe her eyes.

The dress was a stunning strapless cocktail dress of taupe lace with a scalloped hem. It had a full skirt and a fitted corset accented with hundreds of tiny golden sequins. Hermione looked breathtaking.

"I'll take it!"

---

By the time Hermione got home, she was exhausted. She walked around London _all_ day. She picked out the invitations with Beth, but they were unable to order them because the guest list was still not done.

As they walked into the study, Beth and Hermione found Michael sitting at his desk, with a lot of paperwork strewn around him.

"Hello, girls. Had fun today?" asked Michael, as Beth and Hermione sat down on an oversized leather couch.

"Kill me," said Beth. "I'm too _old_ for this."

"Oh please, Beth! You're only twenty four years old!" exclaimed Hermione.

"Too old for what?" asked Michael.

"Shopping," explained Hermione.

"I better get going," said Beth. "I'm glad we could spend the day together, Hermione."

"Me too," said Hermione. "Thank you so much for everything. Especially the dress."

"It's my wedding present! Besides, what are maids of honour for?" Beth asked Hermione, giving her a wink. "I really have to go," she said, taking a look at her watch. "John must be waiting for me. See you!"

"Bye!" said Hermione.

"Did you have a good day?" asked Michael.

"Oh, yes, although very tiring," said Hermione. "We got to do loads of stuff."

"Listen," said Michael, "Mum told me she's coming over tomorrow to plan the actual wedding. I thought maybe I could take the day off from work. What do you think?"

"That would be wonderful," said Hermione. "I'm knackered. I'm going to bed. Wake me up early, ok? I don't want to be in bed when your mother gets here."

"Consider it done," said Michael.

Hermione gave Michael a quick peck on the cheek and went to bed.

---

The next morning Michael woke Hermione up at nine.

"Wake up, sunshine," he said. "Breakfast is ready. I'll wait for you in the dining room."

Hermione got dressed quickly to join Michael.

"Did you have a good night's sleep?" he asked.

"Yes, I did," she replied brightly.

"Listen, I was thinking, maybe we should hire a housekeeper," said Michael.

"A full-time housekeeper?"

"Yes," replied Michael, "so you won't have to work around the house. Do you think it's a good idea?"

"I certainly don't mind," said Hermione.

"Good," he said, "because I asked Susan to send the top three of her list to my office tomorrow."

"You went ahead and did this without me?" asked Hermione.

"Well, I knew you would say yes."

And then the door bell rang.

"I'll go get it," said Hermione.

Hermione got up and walked to the door. She took a deep breath and, with determination, opened the door.

"Hello, darling," said Mrs. Sandford.

"Hello… Elizabeth," replied Hermione.

"Finally! I thought you were _never_ going to call me by my name!" said _Elizabeth_, hugging her future daughter-in-law.

Hermione smiled nervously. "I see you came prepared!" she said, glancing uneasily at the briefcase Mrs. Sandford was holding.

"Of course, dear. What did you expect?"

"Right," said Hermione awkwardly. "Um, Michael is waiting for us in the dining room."

"Well, let's go then."

When Hermione got to the dining room, Michael had already taken care of the dishes and was now reading the _Daily Prophet._

"Hello, Mum," he said.

"Hello," Mrs. Sandford said, giving her son a kiss. "Is this going to be our work area?"

"Yes it is," said Michael. "You need your space."

"Yes we do," said Mrs. Sandford, opening her briefcase. "Let's get started."

"Okay," said Hermione uncertainly as she sat down.

"I was thinking that for a venue we could use The Ritz, in London," said Mrs. Sandford. "Is that okay with you?"

"It's fine by me," said Michael.

"I would… love that!" exclaimed Hermione, taken aback. "But we don't have time to book the facilities…"

"I already called. I have connections there and they told me it wouldn't be a problem," said Mrs. Sandford.

"It's just that… Well, I always imagined a small, quiet wedding…"

"You don't expect me to throw a _backyard wedding_ for my only son, do you?" said Mrs. Sandford with disgust.

"Michael, we talked about this," said Hermione, looking at Michael anxiously, searching for support.

"Hermione, Mum has a point," said Michael. "And The Ritz would be wonderful, don't you think?"

"Of course," said Hermione through gritted teeth.

"Well, then it's settled! I'll call later," said Mrs. Sandford, writing something down in her parchment. "Oh, and by the way, I booked the Four Seasons for the engagement party."

"The Four Seasons? You're joking!" exclaimed Hermione in amazement.

Mrs. Sandford smiled proudly.

"Okay, moving on," she said. "Let's talk guests. I was thinking… maybe 200?"

"That's too much!" said Hermione.

"_Too much?_" said Mrs. Sandford, looking at Hermione as though she were mad. "I think it's the perfect amount! Remember, we _are_ planning the wedding of the year. We have to invite the Minister for Magic, and the heads of the Departments of the Ministry, etc. Oh, and we would have to invite all our muggle friends as well…" added Mrs. Sandford, writing this down in her parchment. "We can arrange for them to forget to come later."

"Oh… Okay," said Hermione. "How are we going to get all these wizards in dress robes inside The Ritz?"

"I was thinking that maybe we could do something like what the Ministry does for the World Cup," said Mrs. Sandford. "But you don't have to worry about that: I'll take care of any obliviating we have to do. Beth's wedding ran rather smoothly anyway. Next on the list: bridesmaids and groomsmen."

"I decided I'm going to have two bridesmaids and Beth is going to be my maid of honour."

"What about you, Michael?" asked Mrs. Sandford.

"I was thinking Ben and John. Liam is going to be the Best Man."

"Alright. Ring bearer? Flower girl?" asked Mrs. Sandford.

"I'm going to ask Bill and Fleur if Philip can be the ring bearer, and I'm also going to ask Fred and Angelina if Angie can be the flower girl," said Hermione.

"Oh! But why don't you use Spencer as ring bearer?" said Mrs. Sandford. "He would look precious! And it would be a really nice gesture… I mean, Beth and John would love it!"

"Yes, I understand that," said Hermione, getting a bit annoyed. "But Philip would also look precious and I'm sure Bill and Fleur would love it too. I just want my family to participate."

"Okay," said Mrs. Sandford icily. "Have you decided on any colour schemes yet?"

"I was talking about it with Beth yesterday and I decided to go with light blue and light green," said Hermione.

"Oh. That… is wonderful," said Mrs. Sandford unenthusiastically. "Well if that's settled then we can look for invitations tomorrow. I had some lovely ideas–"

"Actually," said Hermione, taking out a small envelope, "Beth and I picked out the invitations yesterday."

"Let's see it then," said Mrs. Sandford, extending her hand sceptically. As she took the invitation, Mrs. Sandford gasped. For a moment she looked surprised, but then her expression returned to her usual setting.

"Do you like it?" Hermione asked, beaming.

She and Beth had chosen the simplest, yet most beautiful invitation at the store. It had a soft forget-me-not blue background and on top of it there was a layer of delicate ivory-coloured paper. The invitation was tied with a beautiful light green bow at the top. The envelope was also ivory-coloured, but it had a forget-me-not blue-coloured lining.

"It seems… okay," said Mrs. Sandford, as indifferent as she could possibly be.

"I'll order them tomorrow," said Hermione.

"Fine. Well, let's get started on that guest list then," said Mrs. Sandford.

The three of them spent most of the morning getting the guest list ready. By noon, they had finished it. The grand total: 150 guests (after Hermione managed to persuade Mrs. Sandford that dropping 50 guests would be nothing.)

"Thank you for your help, Elizabeth," said Hermione.

"Oh, please, darling, you know it's my pleasure," said Mrs. Sandford coldly. "Please remember I am picking you up _early_ tomorrow to go and get your dress."

"Sure," said Hermione.

"And you," Mrs. Sandford said, talking to Michael, "you talk to your father to go and pick out a tux."

"Alright," said Michael.

"See you tomorrow, darlings."

"Bye."

As he closed the door, Michael let out a sigh.

"Wedding planning can be so tiring," he said.

"You sound like a woman," laughed Hermione.

"But it's true!" Michael said. "Fancy a drink?" he asked, going into the sitting room.

Hermione gave him a seriously stern look.

"Right," he said. "I forgot."

"Well I haven't," said Hermione. "How could you _forget_, Michael?"

"Hermione, I have been very busy. I'm all stressed out."

"I am _pregnant_, Michael. It's not like you're forgetting a tiny detail."

"I'm sorry," said Michael.

Hermione remained quiet for a couple of minutes.

"Michael… Where were you Sunday night?" she asked, as slowly and delicately as she could, but looking straight into Michael's eyes.

"Um… I went to have a few drinks with Liam and Ben," he replied, looking away quickly, busying himself by looking for a bottle of firewhiskey.

"Oh… Right. Of course. Well, anyway, I've been meaning to tell you…" said Hermione.

"Yes?"

"I'm going to see Beth's doctor on Thursday," said Hermione. "Can you go with me?"

"Of course I will," said Michael.

"Thank you," said Hermione. "I'm going to take a nap."

"I'll join you later," said Michael.

---

Hermione was so tired; she slept throughout the rest of the day.

"Hermione, are you planning to eat tonight?" asked Michael.

"Yes," she replied sleepily.

"Then come downstairs. I made dinner."

When Hermione got to the dining room she sat down next to Michael.

He placed an envelope next to her plate.

"What is this?" asked Hermione.

"It's my wedding present," said Michael, smiling.

Hermione was left speechless when she saw the contents on the envelope.

Inside the envelope were two travel passes allowing the use of an international portkey.

"Oh my…" gasped Hermione.

"We are going to take two months to tour Europe," said Michael.

"Thank you so much!" said Hermione.

"You are most welcome," Michael replied, giving his fiancée a kiss.

---

"Hermione, let's go."

Michael woke up Hermione very early the next morning.

"Why? It's too early," she mumbled.

"Mum owled to say she would pick you up at my office. She said she would be apparating at 9:30. At 10:00 you have an appointment at Harvey Nichols."

Hermione proceeded to drag her feet to the shower to get ready. She chose to wear a camel-colored coat and skirt made of flannel and an ivory knit jumper with pearl buttons. Michael was wearing jeans, a silk jacket and pin-tucked tuxedo shirt. It was no wonder why they were called the best looking couple.

By 9:15 they were entering the Sandford Building in London.

"Good morning, Mr. Sandford," said the receptionist. "Good morning, Miss Granger."

"Good morning," said Michael and Hermione in unison.

The Sandford Corporation promoted private sector investment. After the first war, the value of gold had skyrocketed in the Muggle world, opening a window for the Sandfords to start investing in muggle markets, since their fortune was basically based on their stores of gold galleons and silver sickles.

The Sandfords had an impressive operation going on. Both Muggles _and_ wizards worked in the company (of course, Muggles didn't know this.) Since Michael was also involved with Muggle society, tabloids of all sorts kept track of his life (particularly, his love life.) Everybody knew Hermione in that building. Anyone who didn't know her had probably been living under a rock for the last eight months.

Michael's office was on the top floor. His father's office was on the right side of the floor; Liam's office was to the left.

When they got to the top floor they went straight to Michael's office.

"Susan should be here by now," Hermione heard him mumble.

"I'm going to Dad's office," said Michael.

"I'll go with you," said Hermione.

"Good morning," said Michael, as he entered his father's office.

"Hello…" said Mr. Sandford. "Hi, Hermione," he added.

"Good morning," said Hermione.

"Anything new?" asked Michael.

"Er, no," said Mr. Sandford. "Lizzie will be here shortly, Hermione."

"That's fine," said Hermione.

"I'm going to be in my office, Dad," said Michael.

"Alright," replied Mr. Sandford absentmindedly, as he read some papers.

"Good morning!" said Liam, waltzing into the department.

"Good morning, Mr. Parke," replied most of the secretaries and women working there. Hermione and Michael exchanged looks. Liam was famous for his womanizer qualities.

"Michael, I must show you the statistics I got yesterday," Liam said. "And– Hermione! Fancy seeing you here!" he said, giving Hermione a peck on the cheek.

"Nice to see you, too," replied Hermione.

"Anyway," continued Liam, "I'll give you the statistics later. I have to make a few calls."

"Okay," said Michael. "Come on," he told Hermione, gesturing for her to go into the office.

As Hermione took off her coat, her eyes fell on a magazine that was lying on an empty desk.

_Michael and Hermione,_ read the headline, _Still Hot or Trouble in Paradise? p. 22_

Hermione grabbed the magazine in an instant and sat down opposite Michael. She turned to page 22.

_**Is there trouble in paradise?**_

_**By Megan Wickham**_

_**Special Correspondent**_

_Special sources have been contacting _Witch Weekly_ to alert us of certain events taking place in the life of Britain's favourite couple, Michael Sandford and Hermione Granger._

_Some are talking about a possible split between the golden couple._

"_They really look as if they have had enough," says one reader. "I don't see a future."_

"_Michael has been taking loads of 'business' trips. I definitely smell trouble. Something's not quite right there," said our relationship guru, Georgina Whisp. "The media coverage is another factor; too much attention can be overwhelming."_

_Common belief is that the couple is taking a break. Although Hermione still lives in Michael's mansion in Hogsmeade, the small village is seeing less and less of the young entrepreneur. Will they last?_

She was so amused by the article that she couldn't help laughing.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," said Michael.

"Michael, I need to–" the woman that was entering the office stopped abruptly as she saw Hermione.

"Susan, what is it?" said Michael, _clearly_ irritated.

"I… I… I'm s– sorry, Mr. Sandford," a flustered Susan managed to say, her cheeks flushing a bright red. "I'll come back later."

"Fuck," Michael muttered under his breath.

"Michael," said Hermione firmly, "what's going on?"

But then Elizabeth Sandford came into the room.

"Good morning!" she said brightly.

"Hi, Mum," said Michael quickly.

"Good morning," said Hermione, getting up and giving her future mother-in-law a kiss. "You look very nice." Mrs. Sandford was wearing a very expensive-looking brown tweed suit that had tiny golden metallic accents. She even had a pair of pale blue gloves on, and a pair of pumps that matched her leather handbag.

"Oh, really? Thank you! It's _Chanel_," replied Mrs. Sandford.

_Oh, God, this woman is full of surprises_, thought Hermione.

Just then, Michael's phone rang. Yes, he had a telephone in his office. Just in case, you know.

"Yes," Michael answered the phone. "Alright, I'll be right down."

When he hung up the phone, he looked up at his fiancée and his mum.

"I have a guest waiting for me downstairs. I'll go down with you," he said.

"Well, let's go then," said Mrs. Sandford.

When they got downstairs, Hermione got a very pleasant surprise.

Molly was standing right in the middle of the lobby. When she saw them, she started walking towards them.

"Hermione," said Michael, "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of calling Mrs. Weasley. I know you would want to look for your dress with her."

"Hello," said Molly softly.

"Molly!" said Hermione, tears springing to her eyes. "I'm _so_ glad to see you!" she told her, giving her a hug. "Thank you so much, Michael!"

"Don't mention it. Well," said Michael, looking at his watch, "I guess my work here is done. I'll leave you so you can get started." And just like that, he hurried upstairs.

"Off we go," said Mrs. Sandford dryly.

---

"It won't fit."

After at least an hour of trying on dresses at Harvey Nichols, Hermione was beginning to get upset. None of the gowns would fit.

"It's not possible!" she exclaimed at one point.

"Of course it is!" snapped back Mrs. Sandford. "You're pregnant! It's beginning to show!"

"I think it's too early for it to start showing," snapped Molly. "Let me see something, dear," she told Hermione. She took a look at the size of the dress and then exclaimed, "Of course it won't fit! Hermione, this cannot possibly be your size. I don't think you have ever _been_ this size before." Molly walked up to the woman who was helping them and told her (in a _very_ edgy voice,) "Would you go and get us a dress in her _actual _size?"

"I'll see what I can do for you," said the woman, edgy as well.

After about five minutes, the woman came back, a single dress in hand.

"This is a Carolina Herrera," she explained. "We only have _one_ of these."

When that girl opened the cover of the dress, Hermione was absolutely gobsmacked.

The dress was a beaded gown covered in ecru corded lace. The bodice was crisscrossed with organza ribbon. The train was long (but not _too_ long.) The wedding gown looked grand but simple at the same time. It was definitely exquisite. Like someone had taken it out of a fairytale.

"Oh… Hermione…" gasped Molly.

"It's a really pretty dress," said Mrs. Sandford wanly.

"_Pretty?_" said Hermione. "It's absolutely gorgeous!"

"Try it on!" said Molly.

When Hermione came out of the dressing room, not even Elizabeth Sandford could take her eyes off her.

The gown fitted _almost _perfectly.

"Hermione! You look like a princess!" Molly said. Hermione noticed how Molly was looking at her. It was a dreamy look; as if she were longing for something… else.

"This is _it_," said Hermione. "I know this is _the_ one."

"We can arrange an appointment to make some alterations to the bustier," said the saleswoman. "It looks a bit tight around the chest."

"You should let it a little loose, too," said Mrs. Sandford. "You never know," she added cynically.

Molly's eyes shot daggers at her.

"Alright, then," said the saleswoman. "Would you like to pay now?"

"Yes, I'll pay," said Mrs. Sandford. "Michael told me this was going to be his wedding present to you," she explained to Hermione.

"Thank you," said Hermione, taken aback.

"If you don't mind, I have to run some errands," said Mrs. Sandford after paying the bill. "But I'll see you later."

"Oh, but of course we don't mind!" said Molly ardently.

Hermione suppressed a giggle.

"Thank you for everything, Elizabeth," she finally said.

Mrs. Sandford nodded curtly and left.

"Molly, would you like to do some shopping?" asked Hermione.

"I'd love to," replied Molly.

---

Molly and Hermione spent the rest of the day window shopping around Diagon Alley. Before returning home, they stopped by Harry and Ginny's house.

"Hello," said Molly as she entered the living room.

"Hi, Mum," said Ginny, without looking up from her book.

"Hi, Molly," said Harry as he got up. Right then Hermione came into the room.

"Hi, Hermione," said Harry. "Are you staying over for dinner?"

"Um, sure," said Hermione, smiling.

"Hermione!" exclaimed Ginny, looking up from her book. "Were you two together?"

"Yes," said Molly. "We were getting Hermione's wedding gown."

"Did you pick one _already_?" asked Ginny.

Hermione nodded.

"And?" asked Ginny anxiously.

"It's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," said Hermione.

"Oh, Hermione…" said Ginny. "I wish I could have been there…"

"Me too," said Hermione.

After they had dinner, Hermione said "thank you" to Harry, Ginny, and Molly, and went home.

"Bye," said Ginny, as Hermione went out the door.

"Have you ever met Michael's mother?" asked Molly.

"No," said Harry.

"But we _have_ heard quite a lot about her…" said Ginny. "Why?"

"I spent the entire morning with that woman," said Molly. "I don't understand how anyone can stand her."

"No one does," said Harry. "People just pretend they do."

"She just kept making sarcastic remarks at Hermione's pregnancy; looking for a way to bring her down. Maybe she doesn't think Hermione's good enough for Michael."

"_Not good enough?_" snapped Ginny. "_He's_ not good enough for _her_!"

"Oh, Ginny," said Molly, "no one will ever be good enough for her in your eyes. Well, no one except Ron…"

"I actually agree with Ginny, Molly," said Harry. "It's not that we don't like Michael… Okay, we never liked him and we never will, but–"

"He's a son of a bitch, Mum. Literally," said Ginny.

"You know I don't like that language, Ginevra. Even if you are right: he's getting married to Hermione," said Molly, "whether we all like it or not."


	7. Appointments and Engagements

**A/N: Longest chapter yet, guys. Enjoy. And of course, review.**

**Chapter Seven**

**Appointments and Engagements**

"Hello, I'm here to see Mr. Martin."

The next morning Hermione got up early for her doctor's appointment. When she got to his Kensington office there were only a couple of women waiting with their sleek husbands in the small, yet elegant, waiting room.

"Alright," said Mr. Martin's secretary, an elderly woman. "What is your name, dear?"

"Hermione Granger."

The secretary, who had been reading some papers, snapped her head up. "Oh… Are you here alone?"

"I'm waiting for my fiancé," replied Hermione. Michael had to go to the office quite early but promised to meet her at Mr. Martin's office.

"Very well," said the secretary. "I need you to fill out these forms, please."

"Okay," said Hermione, grabbing the forms and taking a seat. She smiled briefly to the couple next to her, and the couple timidly smiled back.

An hour later, the two couples that were waiting with Hermione had gone in and out of the office and there was still no sign of Michael.

"My dear," said the secretary, looking rather uncomfortable, "are you sure you don't want to go in? Or do you still want to wait for… erm… whoever it is you are waiting for?"

"I… I think… Well… Yes, maybe I should go in," said Hermione finally. "You know, there is no actual reason for me to wait any longer. He has made it perfectly clear he is not coming, hasn't he?" She noticed her voice was trembling a bit.

The secretary remained silent, giving Hermione a blank look.

"Right," said Hermione. She stood up and went into Mr. Martin's office.

The office was big and welcoming. It was bright and had light wood panelling, and on the furthest wall, behind the huge oak desk, it had a magnificent bookshelf filled with books that immediately caught Hermione's attention. Mr. Martin sat behind the desk, writing.

"Hello, Ms. Granger," he said, standing up and walking towards Hermione. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Mr. Martin was a _very_ good looking young man who could not be over thirty-five years old. He had short auburn hair, crystal-clear blue eyes, and a stunning smile.

"Hi," replied Hermione, shaking the doctor's hand nervously. "It's nice to meet you, too."

"Take a seat. This is your first visit, isn't it?" asked Mr. Martin kindly.

Hermione nodded.

"Well, there's no need for you to be nervous. Is… well, your… is Mr. Sandford joining us?" asked Mr. Martin awkwardly.

Hermione laughed.

"You've been reading tabloids, haven't you?"

Mr. Martin laughed. "You caught me. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"Oh, please, don't apologize! I would have asked the same thing. Besides, I don't mind," said Hermione, smiling. "Michael… he couldn't come."

"Fair enough. Before we begin," said Mr. Martin, "do you have any questions?"

"Erm, not really. Well, of course I had _some_… but I… forgot them."

"Don't worry," said Mr. Martin, laughing. "Feel free to ask any questions anytime."

"Thanks," said Hermione, slightly embarrassed.

"Have you been feeling alright?" asked Mr. Martin. "Any symptoms?"

"Well a lot of morning sickness… dizziness…" said Hermione.

"Alright," replied Mr. Martin, writing something in Hermione's file.

After asking Hermione about her family's medical history and giving Hermione a physical exam, Mr. Martin proceeded to determine Hermione's due date.

"Well, Hermione, you are about eight weeks along…"

"Eight weeks? _Really?_"

"Well, if the information you gave me is accurate, this should be correct."

"But why hadn't I noticed this before? I should have known sooner…"

"I think it's the fact that you were probably not expecting this kind of news," said Mr. Martin. "This wasn't a planned pregnancy, right? Besides, eight weeks is really not that much; it's only about two months. It seems your baby is due this summer; August 23rd. I don't see any problems ahead of us… Your health history is perfect…"

Hermione smiled wanly.

"Is everything alright?" asked Mr. Martin.

"Oh, yes… I just… I'm fine," Hermione replied absentmindedly.

"Of course," said Mr. Martin awkwardly. "Well, Hermione, I'm going to give you some prenatal vitamins, which are very important you take every day, and that's it, we're done! Do you have any questions?" he asked, handing her the vitamins.

"No, I'm pretty clear," replied Hermione.

"Well then, I'll see you in four weeks for your first ultrasound."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Martin."

"Oh, please, call me Ryan. Mr. Martin makes me feel… old."

Hermione laughed.

"Thanks for everything," she said, shaking his hand.

After going out into the chilly streets of London, Hermione thought about going to Harvey Nichols, to get her dress fitted. But she didn't; she headed home… alone.

The minute she came through the front door, she picked up the phone and dialled the number of Michael's office. The phone rang and rang for about three minutes until someone Hermione had never talked to picked it up.

"Michael Sandford's office. How can I help?"

"Who is this?"

"My name is Rebecca. Can I help you?"

"Hello, Rebecca. I'm Hermione Granger–"

"Ms. Granger, pleasure to talk to you."

"Yes, the pleasure is all mine. Um, Rebecca, shouldn't Susan be answering the phones in Michael's office?" asked Hermione, trying to keep the edge and anxiousness off her voice.

"Well, Susan called-in sick this morning," said Rebecca. "I'm Mr. Parke's secretary and I have been dealing with both phones all day."

"I see. Well, may I talk to Michael? It's urgent."

"Actually, Ms. Granger, I don't recall seeing Mr. Sandford today," said Rebecca.

"What?"

"Would you like to talk to Mr. Parke?"

"I– Yes, I would," said Hermione.

"One moment please."

"Liam Parke," said Liam's pleasant voice into the phone.

"Liam, it's me," said Hermione.

"Hermione!" exclaimed Liam. "Wha– Why are you… er… calling _me?_"

"Why did your secretary say Michael hasn't been to the office all day?"

"She said that?" asked Liam tensely.

"Yes, she did," said Hermione. "Where is he, Liam?"

"Er… He came into the office _really_ early to pick up some papers and then he left for Glasgow; something came up with an investor," explained Liam. "I was going to go with him but… I ended up staying here."

Hermione remained silent.

"Hermione, are you there?"

"Um, yes… Thanks, Liam," she said.

"Anytime."

Hermione hung up the phone and headed upstairs. She sat down in her bed and spent the next few minutes staring into the empty space in front of her, her mind racing with questions.

_Why?_ _Why did he have to stand her up? Where in the bloody hell was he? Why couldn't he simply tell her he wouldn't be able to make it? _

She took a deep breath and a single tear slid down her cheek. That was the only thing she needed to unleash the storm that was brewing inside of her. She lay down on the bed, her sobs echoing through the room. She felt devastated. He let her down. Michael had failed her yet again. He always put his work before anything, even her, and Hermione feared this would keep happening once the baby was born.

Hermione spent the whole afternoon crying and sleeping. When she heard the front door open some hours later, she got up and went downstairs.

She sat puffy-eyed, with her arms crossed at the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her nose had a light pink tone to it.

"Hi," said a grinning Michael as he came through the door. When he saw Hermione, he stopped abruptly and his smile faded.

"What happened? What's going on?" he asked, the blood draining from his face.

"_You_ tell _me_," said Hermione in a deadpan voice.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You missed the appointment, Michael," said Hermione, looking at the floor, her voice trembling.

"Oh, God…" exhaled Michael.

"You have no idea how it felt to sit there alone. I waited for an hour, Michael. _An hour!_" Hermione's voice boomed. "I was humiliated! But you don't care! You simply try to forget about the fact that I'm pregnant!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, tears streaming down her face.

"Calm down, okay! I _do_ care! Something came up at the office and I couldn't leave! I'm trying to make more money for _us_, not just me!" Michael snapped back, his voice as high as Hermione's.

"_Why do you keep doing this?_ There's just no point in trying to make you understand, is there?" sobbed Hermione. "You'll never get it!"

With that she headed upstairs.

---

As Hermione lay on the bed crying silently, she felt the door of the room open with a soft creak. Michael came in slowly.

"Hermione?" he said softly.

Hermione didn't answer.

"Are you going to have dinner?"

No answer.

"Hermione, I'm sorry. You know I am," he said.

"Stop being sorry," said Hermione quietly. "Stop apologizing. Start making things right."

"I know," said Michael, sitting down on the bed, next to Hermione. "I promise from now on things will be different."

Hermione turned to face him. Her face was pale, her eyes were swollen… It was obvious she had been crying for a long time.

"You _promised_ you would be there," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "It was so important, Michael. So important…"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I really am," said Michael, caressing Hermione's hair. "Why don't you sleep a bit? You look exhausted."

Hermione turned away from Michael and quickly fell asleep.

---

Monday came by slowly, and with it, came the engagement party. Hermione had been kept very busy by Mrs. Sandford, who had been working on numerous things: from the flowers, to the orchestra. The woman had been practically living in Hermione and Michael's Hogsmeade house for the last few days. She was driving Hermione absolutely insane.

"Hermione, dear!" yelled Mrs. Sandford from downstairs. "I'm here!"

"Oh! For Merlin's sake! Michael, it's seven o' clock in the morning!" said Hermione, getting up from the bed.

"She told me she wanted to be here early," said Michael, who was already dressed and ready to go to the office. "I thought I told you."

"No. You didn't," said Hermione. "Michael, I really don't need more stress in my life."

"More stress? _More?_ More than what?" asked Michael. "Hermione, you don't work, you stay at home all day… you don't _have_ any stress."

"Of course I do, Michael," said Hermione. "I'm planning a wedding that is happening in four weeks! Plus: I'm pregnant; I have to take care of the house by myself; I have your mother on my back all day–"

"Hermione! Wakey, Wakey!" Mrs. Sandford yelled from downstairs.

"I'll be right there, Elizabeth!" Hermione yelled back.

"She's only trying to help!" said Michael.

"_Help?_ Michael, she's controlling everything!" exclaimed Hermione.

"Don't worry," said Michael. "She'll get tired of it soon."

"You said that last week," mumbled Hermione.

"About the house," said Michael, _clearly_ choosing to ignore Hermione's comment, "the housekeeper I picked is coming around at about ten o' clock. She already knows all the things she's supposed to do. I gave her a list and that should be enough."

"Fine," said Hermione, putting her robe on and heading downstairs.

"Good morning, Elizabeth," said Hermione as she entered the kitchen.

"_Aaaaah!_" shrieked Mrs. Sandford when she turned around to face Hermione.

Hermione jumped, her eyes opened wide in shock.

"My goodness!" exclaimed Mrs. Sandford. "What happened to you?"

"What are you talking about?" asked Hermione, bewildered.

"Pardon me, my dear, but you look dreadful," said Mrs. Sandford.

"Oh, well, I didn't have time to get ready, since I certainly did not want to keep _you_ waiting," said Hermione, dryly.

"Yes," said Mrs. Sandford, "I have limited time today. I have to pick up my dress, get my hair done, and I have to be in the hotel before the guests arrive, to make sure everything is perfect. Throwing an engagement party can be such a hassle…"

"Yes, I can imagine," said Hermione. _No one asked you to do it_, she almost added.

"Well, Hermione, I have some news for you. I found the perfect people to play at the ceremony."

"Great. Who is it?" asked Hermione, unenthusiastically, serving herself a cup of tea.

"The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra," said Mrs. Sandford, plainly.

Hermione, who had been taking a sip of her tea, almost choked.

"_What?_"

"Oh," said Mrs. Sandford, looking very pleased, "I just happen to have a _very_ well placed friend within the company and he told me there would be no problem with them playing at the wedding."

Hermione looked absolutely gobsmacked.

"I'm off to work," said Michael," coming into the kitchen. When he saw Hermione's shocked face, he turned to his mother.

"You told her, didn't you?" he asked.

"I might have," replied Mrs. Sandford.

"Mum, _I_ wanted to tell her!"

"Sweetheart, I couldn't resist," said Mrs. Sandford.

"You knew?" asked Hermione.

"Of course I knew," said Michael, smirking. "I suggested it."

Hermione smiled.

"I'm glad to see you liked it," said Michael.

"I loved it," replied Hermione.

Michael gave Hermione a nice peck on the lips and apparated to work.

"Now," said Mrs. Sandford, "back to business. I already sent the invitations…"

---

"Ginny, time to wake up," said Harry, nudging Ginny gently.

"Hmmm… What time is it?" asked Ginny sleepily.

"Around eight o' clock," said Harry. "They're coming to examine you soon, remember?"

"_Examine?_ Harry, that sounds creepy," said Ginny, yawning.

"Yes, I know," said Harry, smiling.

Just then, an owl pecked the window.

"What is it?" asked Ginny, her eyes still closed.

"It's an… owl," said Harry, bemused.

"At this hour?" asked Ginny, sitting up.

Harry walked over to the window, opened it and took the letter from the owl, which quickly flew away.

When Harry took a look at the envelope, realization dawned on him.

"I think I know what this is," he said.

"Give me," said Ginny, extending her arm. When she saw it, her heart sank. "Oh no… This is _not_ a good way to start my day," she said, looking at the address, written neatly on the ivory-coloured envelope.

_**Mr. and Mrs. Harry J. Potter**_

_**108 Brick Lane**_

_**London, England**_

"We're going to have to open it sooner or later," said Harry.

Ginny sighed heavily. Her fingers slowly opened the envelope.

"Oh, Harry…" said Ginny, raising a hand to cover her mouth as her eyes watered up.

"Take a deep breath," said Harry.

_**Mr. and Mrs. Peter F. Sandford  
request the honour of your presence  
at the marriage of  
Miss Hermione Jane Granger  
to their son**_

_**Michael Spencer Sandford  
on Sunday, the twelfth of February  
two thousand and one  
at three o'clock  
The Ritz Hotel  
London, England**_

"This is really happening," said Ginny, her voice breaking.

"I know," said Harry, rubbing Ginny's back, "but you have to calm down. You can't get stressed. It affects you and the babies. I don't want you to go into labour because of stress."

Ginny took a deep breath.

"Take it out of my sight, Harry. Please," she said.

Harry took the envelope and went out of the room.

---

Hermione's morning was ruined by Elizabeth Sandford's presence in her dining room. The minutes went by criminally slow, and Hermione was about to snap. Luckily, at about eleven o' clock, Michael's mother took a look at her Rolex watch and said: "Oh dear, I'm late for my hair appointment."

"Are you going to London now?" asked Hermione.

"Of course," said Mrs. Sandford wryly. "I expect to see you at the Four Seasons at eight o' clock." Just like that, she gathered her things and disapparated.

Hermione took a deep breath and headed to the kitchen, where Anne, the new housekeeper, was busy preparing lunch.

"Hello," said Hermione.

"Good morning, ma'am," replied Anne politely.

"Anne, you don't have to call me 'ma'am...' call me _Hermione_."

"I'm sorry," said Anne, taken aback, "It's just that Mr. Sandford said –"

"Forget about Michael. _I'm_ telling you I would feel much more comfortable if you called me by my name," said Hermione. "I mean, you can't be much older than me. How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-one-years-old," said Anne.

"_You're my age?"_ asked Hermione.

"Are you twenty-one too?" asked Anne, amazed.

"Yes!" replied Hermione, laughing.

Anne smiled.

"I was not expecting that," she said.

"Well, maybe we have more in common than we think," said Hermione.

It turned out that Anne was a struggling writer that was trying to make ends meet. She was born in France, but moved to Scotland when her father – who was Scottish – convinced her mother to move when she was one year old. Her mother, a middle-aged French woman, lived in Lyon now, and was also a housekeeper; that is why she made the decision of becoming one to be able to continue writing; she learned from her mother and claimed that it was "one of the only things she actually could do," a fact that Hermione seriously doubted, since Anne had attended Beauxbatons, just like her mother, and from what Hermione could tell, was very smart. Her dad had died a couple of years ago; that's when her mother decided to go back to France.

"That's quite a story," said Hermione.

"It has been my life," replied Anne.

"I still don't get why you're cleaning my house," said Hermione. "You should be writing your book, not cleaning people's houses!"

Anne shrugged.

"It's an honest living," she said. "I don't mind doing it. I really love writing, but I have to help my mother. I started writing the book, then Dad died, and… everything went downhill from there."

"My parents died a couple of years ago," she said quietly. "It has been downhill for me since then, too."

That was a lie. Her life had been going downhill since before the accident. It had been going downhill since the break-up.

"It doesn't seem that way," said Anne. "Look at this place. It's like being in heaven! You have a wonderful fiancé, I'm sure you have loving friends, you're the envy of almost every girl in England… I follow your personal life from magazines, for goodness' sakes!"

"It's not nearly as good as they put it, Anne," said Hermione softly, as if she had regrets. "Anyway… I'm sorry; it seems I've kept you from doing your job."

"Oh, don't worry. I'll finish up quickly," said Anne. "It was very nice to talk to you."

"You too," replied Hermione, sincerely. After that she headed upstairs. She needed a very long and relaxing bath.

Michael got home at around six o'clock. Hermione, who was waking up from a nap, heard him head into his study, shutting the door behind him, as usual. She got up from bed and headed to her closet.

It was every girl's dream, that closet. Michael had had it done specifically for her. Rows and rows of shoes, stunning gowns, and designer clothes were part of Hermione's exquisite wardrobe. The vast majority had been presents from Michael.

Hermione looked for her dress and admired it for a couple of minutes, after which she headed to the bathroom and took a shower. Then she went to get her hair ready. She sat down in front of her vanity and decided to wear her long hair in soft, light waves. After styling it just the way she wanted, she picked up a beautiful vintage barrette from her vanity table and pinned it gently to her hair.

The barrette had been a gift from her mother. Originally, it had belonged to her grandmother, and Hermione assumed maybe even her great-grandmother too. It was one of the few things she still had from her mother. She treasured that barrette like it was the most valuable thing in the world.

A tear slid down Hermione's cheek.

Her mother; the one person that had been dreaming about this day for as long as Hermione had. And she wouldn't be here to see her walk down the aisle, and nor would her father.

She missed her parents more than ever. The thought that had stayed in her mind for the last two years had been lingering in her head more than usual over the last few days: _If only I hadn't taken that job at Hogwarts… If only I hadn't moved to Hogsmeade… They would still be here. Everything is my fault._

"Hermione, what's wrong?" asked Michael, peering at Hermione with a concerned look on his face.

"Oh, it's nothing," replied Hermione, drying her face with a tissue and attempting to smile. "You know me. I can get emotional."

Michael smiled.

"I'm going to get ready," he said.

Hermione washed her face and proceeded to put makeup on. By the time Michael came out of the shower and got dressed, Hermione was ready to go, sitting silently on the bed, thinking.

"Are you ready?" asked Michael, as he came out of the bathroom, looking very handsome in one of his smartest and most expensive suits.

"Yes," said Hermione, standing up.

"You look beautiful," Michael told her.

Hermione gave him a warm smile.

"You don't look so bad yourself," she replied.

"Let's go," he said, grinning.

"We're taking the Jag, aren't we?" asked Hermione suspiciously.

"How did you…"

"Oh, please, Michael. You're grinning."

Michael chuckled.

As they neared the Four Seasons Hotel, Hermione noticed something… _odd_. There were police cars in front of the hotel, and a significant crowd had gathered on both sides of the street. Most of the people were women and teenage girls.

"Michael, what's going on?" asked Hermione slowly.

"I've no idea," replied Michael, looking around, trying to figure out the situation himself. He pulled up in front of the hotel and a valet quickly came and opened his door. Another valet did the same thing for Hermione.

"Welcome to the–"

Hermione didn't get to hear the rest of the valet's words. When she stepped out of the Jag, the crowd roared, and she had to shield her eyes with her hand from the hundreds of cameras that were flashing at her. She turned to face Michael, and she saw a man in a suit saying something to his ear. Michael nodded as the car was taken away. He looked at Hermione and raised his eyebrows comically as he smiled. His expression made her laugh. He headed toward her, waving politely at the crowd.

Photographers everywhere were screaming at Hermione.

"Give us a big smile!" she heard someone yell.

"Give him a kiss!"

"You look beautiful!"

Hermione's smile was starting to hurt.

Michael took her hand and they walked together inside the hotel.

When they entered the hotel's atrium, the hotel's manager, a tired-looking man, was waiting for them.

"Mr. Sandford, Miss Granger, my name is Robert Stewart," he said shaking Michael and Hermione's hands. "I want to welcome you to the Four Seasons."

"Thank you very much," replied Michael. "You have a wonderful hotel."

"Thank you, sir," said Mr. Stewart. "If you could just follow me, please, I would be happy to escort you to the ballroom."

"Perfect," said Michael.

Hermione followed silently. Michael gave her hand a tight squeeze.

When they finally entered the ballroom, Hermione could not believe the sight before her eyes. The room was decorated with the most beautiful, detailed, lavish decorations she had ever seen. Golden centrepieces with white and blue lilies adorned the numerous tables around the dance floor, which was set in the centre of the ballroom and had a huge canopy over it; the stage was covered with flowers and there was a band already playing… Everything was perfect. Even the colours were the ones Hermione had picked: forget-me-not blue and light green. She couldn't believe it.

But there was one peculiar thing about the scene unravelling before Hermione's eyes.

There must have been a place for more than four hundred guests in that place.

"Hello," said Mrs. Sandford, suddenly appearing next to Hermione and Michael.

"Hello, Mum," said Michael, giving his mother a kiss.

"Do you like the decorations, Hermione?" asked Mrs. Sandford, a sarcastic tone to her voice.

"I _love_ them. The room looks beautiful," said Hermione. "Thank you very much for everything."

"Oh, there's no need to thank me," said Mrs. Sandford. "Beth took care of the… _ambience_."

_That explains it,_ thought Hermione bitterly.

"I hope you don't mind," continued Mrs. Sandford, "but I took the liberty of adding more guests to your list. Having only 150 guests was certainly not an option. You look nice, by the way," she added, smiling innocently.

Hermione gaped at her future mother-in-law for a moment before saying slowly, "So do you."

Mrs. Sandford was looking glamorous as usual. She was wearing a _very_ tight golden and white brocade cocktail dress, and she was wearing her blonde hair in a tight bun.

"Thank you," replied Mrs. Sandford dryly. "Now _you_," she said, turning towards her son, "you look gorgeous, Michael."

"Hello," said Mr. Sandford, standing behind Hermione.

"Hello," replied Hermione politely.

"You look very pretty," Mr. Sandford told her.

"She does, doesn't she?" said Michael.

Hermione blushed.

"Anyway," said Mrs. Sandford, "there is someone I'd like you to see, Michael." She waved to someone Hermione could not see and turned back to them beaming. "You will not believe it," she added.

Michael looked confused. He glimpsed at Hermione and shrugged.

"Wait until you see," said his mother excitedly.

"Who is it, Mum?" asked Michael, failing to hide his annoyance.

"Hello, darling," said the woman behind Michael to his ear.

Hermione saw Michael's demeanour change completely.

"Patricia?" he said, turning around in utter disbelief.

When she turned around, Hermione found herself facing an unofficial supermodel. The woman in front of her was wearing a sleek, above-the-knee, silver silk cocktail dress that showcased every part of her unnaturally thin body. The dress was tied up at her neck and was simple yet tremendously extravagant at the same time. She was wrapped in a black fur stole, and had sleek, long, blond hair. The woman was _flawless_.

"Oh my," said Patricia, giving Michael a thorough once-over. "You have not changed one bit." She gave Michael a peck on each cheek and beamed at him.

Hermione gazed curiously at the two of them. Something here was _definitely_ not right.

"What are you doing here?" asked Michael, a delighted smile spread across his face.

"I invited her, of course," said Mrs. Sandford, looking as delighted as her son.

"You look amazing," said Michael, without missing a beat.

"Why, thank you, darling. You know how I like it when you say that. To tell you the truth, I've missed it," Patricia said seductively. "Anyway," she continued, turning to Hermione and giving her a _subtle_ once-over, "you must be the bride."

"Hermione Granger," said Hermione briskly, extending her hand.

"Oh, there's no need to be formal here, Hermione," said Patricia, smiling and ignoring Hermione's extended hand. "I've heard all about you."

"That's funny actually," said Hermione icily, "because I've _never_ heard about _you_."

No one could believe those words actually came out of Hermione's mouth.

"Er, Hermione," chimed in Mr. Sandford awkwardly, "this is Patricia Walters. She is the daughter of our dearest and closest friends, Patrick and Emile Walters."

"Pleasure," said Hermione dryly, as Michael and Mr. Sandford were being dragged away from the conversation by a man trying to talk about business.

"I know," said Patricia defiantly. "And I do have to say," she added, giving Hermione a patronizing smile and glancing at Michael quickly, "congratulations. It's not easy to tie someone like Michael down. He's a free spirit, that one."

Hermione remained silent, glaring at Patricia.

"Well, Hermione," said Mrs. Sandford, smiling, "I want to introduce Patricia to some people, so if you will excuse us…"

And just like that, Hermione was left all alone.

Or so she thought.

As soon as Mrs. Sandford and Patricia walked away, Hermione felt someone tap per shoulder.

"_What?"_ she snapped. When she turned around, Hermione found herself facing Charlie Weasley.

"Are you alright?" he asked, looking at Hermione's stressed face.

"Charlie!" exclaimed Hermione, her features breaking into a smile. "You're here!" She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a tight hug.

"Congratulations!" said Charlie.

"Thank you!" said Hermione. "Where is the rest of your family?" she asked.

"They should be here any minute."

"Oh, I can't wait to see them," said Hermione.

"Er, Hermione," said Charlie, blushing a bit, "I want you to meet someone."

"You _brought_ her, didn't you?"

Charlie turned several shades redder.

"Yes, I did," he said.

"Does that mean what I think it means?" asked Hermione, grinning.

"Maybe," replied Charlie. Just then, a girl stood besides him and took his hand, making him turn _redder_.

"Hermione," he said, "I would like you to meet Julie. Julie, _this_ is Hermione."

"Hello," said Julie, extending her hand. "It's very nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

"Thank you," said Hermione. "It's very nice to meet you, too. I hope you _only_ heard the nice things about me."

"Only the good things," said Julie, laughing.

Julie turned out to be quite an interesting girl, Hermione thought. She was talkative, well mannered, funny… perfect for Charlie.

Hermione found that the most peculiar thing about Julie was the way she looked at Charlie when he talked. It was a dreamy look; a "proud-of-him" look. It was the sort of look that could only come from a woman in love.

That made Hermione think of herself. She knew that feeling. But when she thought of herself, she didn't think of her current self. She thought about her old self.

_Snap out of it_, she firmly told herself.

The next Weasleys to arrive were Fred with Angelina and George with Paola.

"Hello!" exclaimed Hermione, running to greet them.

"Hermione! You look beautiful!" said Angelina.

"So do you!" said Hermione, hugging her.

"Hey, what about us?" asked Fred, an indignant look on his face.

"You look good too," said Hermione, laughing.

"Hermione!" she heard a voice call from behind. She turned around and saw Bill, Fleur, Arthur, and Molly.

Molly walked quickly towards her and enveloped her in a hug.

"It's so good to see you," said Hermione, her eyes suddenly watering up. "I'm so glad you're here."

Molly smiled.

"How are you?" she asked.

"I'm alright," said Hermione.

"You look lovely," said Arthur.

"Thank you," replied Hermione with a smile.

"Hermione," interrupted Mrs. Sandford, ignoring the Weasleys, "we need you over here."

"I'll be there in a minute, Elizabeth," said Hermione patiently.

"Please do hurry," insisted Mrs. Sandford.

"I will," said Hermione through gritted teeth. "I'll be right back. If you need anything, let me or Michael know, okay?"

"Of course," said Bill.

As Hermione walked away, the Weasleys decided to find their table. When they found it, they were surprised to see that it was one of the best tables in the room.

"I'm sure she fought hard for this one," said Molly.

"What do you mean?" asked Arthur.

"If it were for Michael's mother we would be sitting by the door," said Angelina.

"Angelina," said Molly, "if it were for Michael's mother we would not be here at all."

"Why is she doing this?" asked Charlie.

"Who? Elizabeth Sandford?" asked Arthur.

"No, I mean Hermione," said Charlie. "Why is she marrying Michael? Can't she see what she is getting herself into?"

"I think that is none of our business," said Bill.

"I beg to differ," said Charlie.

"Charlie," said Bill patiently, "I think that you're not really asking yourself why Hermione is marrying Michael. You're asking yourself: 'Why is Hermione _not_ getting married to Ron?'"

"I think that's enough, boys," said Molly. "This is not the time _or_ the place."

"Fine," said Bill. "But you know I'm right. Just ask Ginny."

"How _is_ Ginny, Molly?" asked Paola, trying to change the subject.

"Oh, you know her. Not very patient, my little girl. And now that she got the invitation and all…"

"What invitation?" asked Bill.

"Bill, what invitation do you think it is?" asked Fleur.

"Already?" asked George.

"Well, the wedding is practically in four weeks, George," said Paola.

"It's basically here," said Fred.

As the conversation continued like that in the Weasleys' table, Hermione was trying to remain awake. For the last twenty minutes she had been listening to a man go on about the exchange rate and the stock market, whatever that meant.

"Michael," she said when the man stopped to take a deep breath, "I think I'm going to sit down for a bit."

"Of course," he said. "I'll be there in a minute."

Hermione walked over to her table and sat down. She noticed there were some things in John and Beth's seats, which meant they must have arrived already.

"Having fun?" asked Michael, sitting down next to Hermione.

"Oh, definitely," she replied. "The stock market is so fascinating."

"Sorry about that," said Michael.

"It's not your fault," said Hermione.

"Excuse me," interrupted a voice.

Hermione turned her head slowly, fearing the worst. Sure enough, there _she_ was. Patricia Walters was standing right next to her.

"Hermione," asked Patricia, "is your fiancé rentable?"

_Rentable?_ thought Hermione. _You must be joking._

"I'm sorry?" she asked in utter disbelief.

"Can I borrow him for a quick dance?" asked Patricia.

"Why don't you ask _him_?" replied Hermione. "He's an adult. I'm sure he can think for himself."

"I would love to, Patricia," said Michael. He quickly got up and led Patricia to the dance floor, leaving Hermione sitting alone at the table.

"Enjoying yourself?" asked Beth, standing next to Hermione a few minutes after Michael left.

"Beth!" exclaimed Hermione, getting up and giving her future sister-in-law a hug.

"Did you like the decorations?" asked Beth.

"I loved them!" said Hermione enthusiastically.

"What about Michael?" asked Beth. "Where is he?"

"Oh, he's over there," said Hermione, "_really_ enjoying himself."

"_What is she doing here?"_ asked Beth, her face turning pink.

"Do you know her?" asked Hermione.

"Of course I do. She used to rip my dolls heads' off to flush them down the toilet."

"Right," said Hermione. "Family friends."

"Such a bloody cow…" continued Beth, her face _now_ turning red. "She has the _nerve_ to come in here!"

"Is there something I don't know?" asked Hermione.

"All her life she has been after Michael. She's only a year younger than him," explained Beth. "I can't stand her! She thinks she is the only woman on the planet!"

"I don't know why that doesn't surprise me," said Hermione gloomily.

"And what on _Earth_ is Michael doing dancing with her?" asked Beth.

"I believe your mother is trying to fix them up," explained Hermione.

"_What?_ Oh no, she won't," said Beth, walking towards the stage.

"Beth! What are you doing?" asked Hermione, going after her.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," said Beth into the microphone, "may I have your attention, please?"

The room quieted down.

"I would like the bride _and_ the groom to come up here," said Beth. "And my parents, of course."

Michael took Hermione's hand and walked up to the stage. Mr. and Mrs. Sandford followed them.

"As you all must know," said Beth, "I'm Michael's sister. I have held that position for the last twenty-four years, and I feel no one knows my brother as well as I do. I thought no one would ever be able to. That is, until I met Hermione Granger. Sweet Hermione, who came into our lives without warning. I'm glad she did. I'm happy to say that I think _no one_ is better for Michael than she is, and I'm happy to call her my future sister-in-law. So today, I'm honoured to announce my brother's engagement to such a _spectacular_ woman. I want _all of you_ to raise your glasses, and toast to the happy couple. For a happy and long marriage."

By the end of Beth's little speech there were tears in her eyes. Hermione came forward and gave her a hug.

It was official now. She was one step closer to marrying Michael. _One step further away from Ron._


	8. The Wedding of the Year

**Chapter Eight**

**The Wedding of the Year**

"Miss Granger, time to wake up."

It was eight o' clock in the morning of February 12; a month after the engagement party. Hermione had spent the night in the Sandford Manor. Elizabeth Sandford's complicated plan was the following: Hermione and Michael would spend the night before the wedding apart: Hermione in Bedford, and Michael in Hogsmeade. Then, the day of the wedding –which was _today_– Hermione would leave with Mr. and Mrs. Sandford, and John, Beth, and their kids to London, their arrival scheduled for noon.

The door to the guestroom (appropriately named "The Guest's Suite") opened slowly, letting Mary, the housekeeper, in. She opened the golden curtains and the room filled with sunlight. It was a beautiful room, with high ceilings that had ornate decorations, and marble floors that shined intensely. The room had an enormous fireplace and a beautiful antique bed that made Hermione feel like royalty.

"Miss Granger," said Mary, "Mrs. Sandford sent me to wake you up."

"Tell her I'll be downstairs in ten minutes," said Hermione, sitting up sleepily.

"Alright, miss," replied Mary.

"Thanks, Mary."

"It's my pleasure," replied the housekeeper, going out of the room and closing the door behind her.

Hermione got up from the bed and headed to the bathroom.

After taking a quick shower, she put on a pale pink wrap-around dress with a white tweed jacket and shoes to match and went downstairs. She looked soft and delicate, her hair sleek and smooth, yet wavy.

Hermione found the Sandfords having breakfast in the North Dining Room. Yes, because there were _four_ dining rooms: the North Dining Room, used for lunch and special occasions; the South Dining Room, which sided as a ballroom and was only used for Mrs. Sandford's extravagant parties; the East Dining Room, used for breakfast; and the West Dining Room, used for dinner.

The fact that they were having breakfast in the North Dining Room meant that "Lizzie" was in a good mood today.

"Good morning!" said Beth brightly as Hermione entered the room.

"Hello," said Hermione.

"You look lovely," said John, who was feeding Charlotte her bottle.

"Thanks," said Hermione, smiling. Then she turned to face Spencer, Andrew and Marcus, who were sitting next to one of their nannies. "Now, how are my favourite future-nephews? You're up early!"

Spencer and Marcus giggled. Andrew, being a one-year-old, was obviously too busy drinking his milk on Mummy's lap.

Hermione sat down next to Mrs. Sandford, who barely acknowledged her.

"Nervous, Hermione?" asked Mr. Sandford.

"Not quite yet," she admitted.

After a few minutes, Mrs. Sandford, who had finished her breakfast, asked, "Is everyone ready to go?"

"Mum," said Beth, "Hermione has to eat first."

"Oh, don't worry about me," said Hermione, finishing up a muffin, "I can't eat much. I think I'm done."

"Oh," said Beth, taken aback. "Well, I guess we're all ready, then."

"Good," said Mrs. Sandford. "I'll have Mary to get the cars ready. I'll see you in the foyer in five minutes." She got up and left.

"Emily," said Beth, calling the nanny, "would you and Christine get the prams?"

"Of course," said Emily, getting up and practically running to get the prams.

"How is she?" asked Hermione, referring to Charlotte.

"She's perfectly fine," said Beth, with a smile. "She is such a good girl…"

"She looks gorgeous!" said Hermione, eyeing with delight the baby's beautiful little pink dress.

"Well, she had to look her best for such an event!" exclaimed Beth.

"No surprises today?" Hermione was still a little bit angry at Mrs. Sandford for adding so many guests to the list.

"Hermione, I swear I didn't know she did that behind your back!" said Beth.

"I know…" said Hermione. She knew it had not been Beth's fault. But she simply couldn't help herself.

"We better get going," said Mr. Sandford. He knew better than to keep his dear _Lizzie_ waiting.

As the group arrived to the foyer, Mrs. Sandford passed out some envelopes.

"These are your schedules for the day," she said. "We are expected to arrive at the Ritz by noon. I already took precautions regarding the arrival. I expect there is going to be a lot of people waiting for your arrival, Hermione. I don't want you to be as surprised to see them as you were on the night of the engagement party… Beth, you and John are going with Charlotte and Hermione in your car, I assume; Spencer, Marcus and Andrew are going with the nannies in the company car, I believe Hugo will be driving; and your father and I are taking the Jag."

"Let's go," said John, pushing the boys' triple pram through the front door.

"Alright," said Mrs. Sandford, absentmindedly, gathering her things.

"The boys are coming with us, Mum," said Beth, who had Charlotte in her arms. "There's enough space… The car can seat seven passengers."

"I want to go with Charlotte!" exclaimed Spencer.

"Fine," said Mrs. Sandford. "Do whatever you want."

"Emily, Christine," said Beth, "go in the other car. We'll take care of the kids this time."

The girls nodded.

"Well, now that that's settled," said Mrs. Sandford, "let's go."

---

Hermione found John and Beth's car was quite comfortable. It had three rows of seats: John was driving, Hermione sat with Beth, Charlotte and Andrew (who sat on her lap) on the back seat and on the last row of seats, Spencer and Marcus were sleeping.

As they were nearing London's West End, Hermione started spotting the crowds. It was a cold gloomy day, with grey skies overhead and drizzle falling once in a while. There were a lot of people lined up on the streets, many of them with umbrellas and cameras, and they were snapping shots of the cars as they went by.

"I think these people want to see you, Hermione," said John, smiling.

"Gosh, I hadn't seen something like this since Princess Diana got married!" said Beth.

"You're exaggerating," said Hermione, disbelievingly.

"Maybe just a bit," said Beth, "but John knows I'm a teeny bit right."

"It's true," said John. "People don't go out to the street just for anyone."

"Honestly?" asked Hermione, feeling flattered. "How did they find out, anyway?"

"Someone probably leaked information," said John dismissively. "Why don't you lower your window and wave?"

"You are joking, right?" asked Hermione.

"Of course I'm not," said John, his expression deadpan.

"I'm not a celebrity, John," Hermione retorted.

"Hermione," said Beth patiently, "you are marrying one of the richest, most eligible men in England. These people are standing in the cold just to see you. The least you could do would be to lower that window and wave."

"Do I have to?" asked Hermione in a childish voice.

"You don't _have_ to do it," said Beth, "but it would be nice if they could at least see you."

"I know," said Hermione. "It just feels… weird."

"You're a celebrity," said John, grinning. "Face it. Embrace it."

"John! It's not funny!" exclaimed Hermione.

"He's just teasing you," said Beth, grinning as well. "But you can't deny it: you _are_ famous."

Hermione looked out the window. It seemed amazing how different her life was now. Somehow, she felt she wasn't living her life anymore. She was trying to keep up with an image; the image the tabloids portrayed of her.

Hermione reached for the button on the door and lowered the window. The cold air hit her face suddenly, as did the hundreds of flashes aimed at her.

Andrew, who was sitting on Hermione's lap, started waving his hands expertly, with a smile spread across his face. Hermione couldn't help but laugh.

"You're much better at being famous than me, aren't you?" she told him.

The one year old giggled.

Shortly after that, John pulled up in front of the hotel. Hotel staff members hurried to open the car's doors and take the luggage out of the boot. Hermione got out of the car carrying Andrew on her hip, followed by Spencer and Marcus, who were clinging to her coat. She met the same frenzy that made her engagement party entrance a memorable one, only that this time there were even more cameras. Beth was carrying Charlotte, and as soon as she got out of the car she hurried into the hotel in an attempt to keep the baby as warm as possible.

As she turned around to say "hi" to the cameras, Hermione saw as Mrs. Sandford, wrapped in a warm-looking (not to mention extremely expensive) fur coat, got out of her car and walked up the stairs with Mr. Sandford, trying as hard as she could to give an actual smile to the press.

John hurried over to Hermione's side pushing the boys' triple pram, followed by Caroline and Emily.

"Hop in, guys," he told Spencer and Marcus.

"I wonder how _everybody_ found out the wedding was _here_ _today_," Hermione told John.

John gave her a wary look that had "Elizabeth Sandford" written all over it.

"Seriously, did this happen when you and Beth got married?" Hermione asked John, as he took Andrew from her arms.

"Beth wasn't 'Bachelorette of the Year,' Hermione," John said, as he sat Andrew between Spencer and Marcus. "Okay, all set."

"Let's go in," said Hermione.

Once inside the hotel, Hermione felt overwhelmed by the posh entrance hall of the hotel, as she always did. It was so beautiful, so _luxurious_… Golden crown-moulding in the ceiling, polished bronze wall fittings, gleaming marble floors, extravagant furniture… The enormous chandelier in the centre made the hall look majestic. The place was fit for royalty.

Hermione spotted her future parents-in-law and Beth talking to a tall brunette with a headset by the front desk.

"Hello, Miss Granger," said the pleasant brunette as Hermione, John, the nannies, and the boys approached the group. "I'm Sophie Rocher. Robyn couldn't make it today, so I'll take care of anything you need during the day."

"Hello," replied Hermione. "It's very nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine," said Ms. Rocher. "Well, now that you're all here, let me get you settled."

Ms. Rocher led the group to the lifts, and when they got off the lift on the 6th floor, she said something into the headset, walked to the centre of the corridor and turned to face the group with a smile spread across her face.

"Alright," she said, clearing her throat, "Mr. and Mrs. Sandford: you will have the Yellow Suite, right over here to your left; Mr. and Mrs. Lancaster: you will have the Blue Suite, right opposite Mr. and Mrs. Sandford. The provisional beauty salon was set up in the Trafalgar Suite. You, Miss Granger, will be staying upstairs."

Ms. Rocher gave Hermione a small, sweet smile as she handed out the room keys.

"Very well, then," said Mrs. Sandford. "I will meet you girls in the Trafalgar Suite in ten minutes."

"Alright. Come along, darlings," Beth told her "troop," leading the way to her room.

"If you could follow me, Miss Granger," said Ms. Rocher, who was now standing inside the lift.

When Hermione got in, Ms. Rocher closed the lift's doors and slid a white key-card into the lift's control-board and pressed the button for _PH_.

When the doors opened, Hermione's heart stopped.

That room had to be the biggest, brightest, most beautiful, expensive- looking room she had ever seen. There were white roses everywhere. The room was exquisite, decorated in Louis XVI style. It overlooked Green Park, and on the distance she could see Buckingham Palace…

"Miss Granger," said Ms. Rocher, interrupting Hermione's thoughts, "welcome to the Prince of Wales Suite. I hope you find everything to your liking."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the comment.

"I have no problems with this," she said.

"Great," said Ms. Rocher. "Let me give you a quick tour. Over here you have the dining room, which sits up to ten guests, and through that door is the butler's kitchen."

"Oh, gosh," said Hermione. "This is beautiful."

"Yes it is, Miss, but you have not seen anything yet. Right through here," Ms. Rocher continued, "you have the drawing room, and behind that door is the cloakroom. Oh, and those double doors over there are the two bedrooms."

"Perfect," said Hermione.

"If you find any problems please do not hesitate to call me," said Ms. Rocher.

"I think I will be fine," said Hermione.

"Well, I better leave you. If anyone wants to come up they just have to dial 700 in the lift. I already told Mrs. Lancaster."

"Thank you very much."

As soon as Ms. Rocher left the room, Hermione ventured into her room. She found her Louis Vuitton luggage (which Michael had insisted on buying her) piled up at one side of the room, next to the desk, and her wedding gown lying delicately on the bed.

Hermione quickly remembered her last fitting at Harvey Nichols. It had been a _nightmare_. She went with Mrs. Sandford, who had been brooding with her arms crossed in a corner of the fitting room. Part of her anger came from the fact that Hermione's figure kept expanding, namely her stomach, and getting her into the wedding dress was becoming more and more difficult as time went by. But by now, Hermione had learned how to block anything negative her mother-in-law said and had mastered the art of converting all the negative energy Elizabeth Sandford had been sending out into the world into something positive and constructive.

"Hermione!" she heard Beth's voice calling from the entrance. "This is amazing!"

"I know!" said Hermione, coming out of her room to meet her. "It's unbelievable!"

"You have a bloody penthouse!"

Hermione laughed.

"Those fireplaces… I'm taking pictures of this!" said Beth, still trying to take in what she was looking at. "But anyway, the reason I came up here is to tell you that Mum is waiting for us in the Trafalgar Suite."

"Right, of course," said Hermione. "Let's go."

To say Hermione was surprised when she entered the suite is a bit of an understatement. Three hairstylists, one manicurist, and two makeup artists were waiting for her. The room was fully equipped and divided in stations; to her it felt like being backstage in a fashion show.

"Hermione," said Mrs. Sandford, "I assume you remember Derek. He–"

"Of course I remember him!" said Hermione excitedly, giving Derek a peck on the cheek. "You did my hair for the company's benefit gala last November! How are you?"

"I'm great, darling!" exclaimed the hairstylist. "You look delicious!"

"Anyway," continued Mrs. Sandford, "he will be in charge of your hair today. Beth, darling, you're with Mya."

It took Hermione, Beth, and Mrs. Sandford three hours to get their hair, nails, and makeup ready. Now Hermione was pacing in her sitting room with Beth, who was already dressed in a forget-me-not blue Givenchy dress, drinking tea.

"How do you feel?" asked Beth.

"I think I'm going to be sick," said Hermione.

"Calm down! Everything will run smoothly, I promise," said Beth.

"My feet hurt," said Hermione.

"Well sit down, then! You're going to ruin your makeup!" said Beth. "And if you go on pacing like that you won't have any feet left."

"I'm so nervous," continued Hermione.

"Don't be! Try to think about something else," said Beth.

"Beth," said Hermione, "how on earth do you expect me to think about something else?"

Just then, the doors to the lifts opened.

"People are starting to arrive," said Mrs. Sandford, dressed in an ivory Chanel suit. "Hermione! Not dressed yet? We're going to be late!"

"Let's get that dress on, Hermione!" exclaimed Beth.

The three of them walked into Hermione's room, where Hermione walked into the bathroom to get her wedding gown on.

"Beth…" said Hermione, as she walked out into the room.

"Oh God, don't tell me…"

"It won't close," said Hermione, grimacing.

"I knew it," said Mrs. Sandford. "This is perfect, Hermione. Just perfect."

"Don't panic. Don't panic," said Beth slowly, rummaging in her oversized handbag. "I have the answers to our problems right here."

"A corset? Will it work?" asked Hermione.

"Well, I certainly hope so," said Mrs. Sandford, "or Hermione will ruin this day–"

"Oh Mother, just _shut up_," said Beth. "You're ruining this for Hermione _and_ me. I hope you remember it takes _two_ to make a baby. This is Michael's fault too. And why _are_ we playing the blame game here? This baby is a _blessing_. I trust you know that."

Mrs. Sandford remained quiet.

"Come on, Hermione. Let's get this corset on," said Beth.

"I'll go to check on Michael," said Mrs. Sandford, going out of the room.

"Thanks, Beth," said Hermione as soon as her mother-in-law was out of the room.

"Don't mention it," said Beth.

The two remained quiet as Beth adjusted the corset. When Beth zipped the dress up, she and Hermione gasped.

"Oh my…" breathed Beth. "You look absolutely… The dress looks…"

"It does, doesn't it?" said Hermione, grabbing a tissue.

"Hermione… It just… I feel so… so… _proud_…" said Beth.

"Why?" asked Hermione.

"I'm so happy you are my sister!" exclaimed Beth, grabbing a tissue as well.

Hermione and Beth stared at their crying selves in the mirror for a couple of minutes.

"We look like… like…"

"Like idiots," finished Beth.

They both laughed.

"Oh dear, look at the time!" exclaimed Beth. "I must make sure the kids are ready."

"Go! I'll be fine," said Hermione.

"Alright," said Beth. "Do you need anything?"

"No," said Hermione. "But now that you mention it, would you make sure that my flower girl and my ring bearer come up here with their parents when they arrive?"

"Of course! But how will I know who they are?" asked Beth.

"As soon as you see red hair, trust me, you will know," said Hermione, laughing.

"Okay," said Beth, walking into the lift.

Hermione walked back into her bedroom to take another look at herself in front of the mirror. Honestly, she would have never recognized herself. Her hair was tied in a beautiful knot at the back of her head and she was wearing more than ₤500,000 in jewellery. She looked… ideal.

As she evaluated herself she heard the lift's doors open and a male voice call "Hello?"

_Bill_, she instantly thought. She hurried excitedly out into the sitting room, where she realized she could not have been more wrong.

It wasn't Bill. It wasn't Charlie. _It was Ron_.

Hermione stood there in the sitting room for a minute or so, not knowing what to say. Not knowing what to do.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked breathlessly, the blood draining from her face.

"I'm sorry to burst in on you like this," said Ron nervously. "Um, you… I mean Michael's… Beth let me come up."

"It's… It's been a long time," said Hermione, still shocked.

"I know," said Ron, quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Ron… I… I'm getting married in thirty minutes," said Hermione, not really knowing why she said that.

"Please, Hermione. Don't," said Ron.

"'Don't' what?" asked Hermione, not liking the direction in which the conversation was heading.

"Don't do it," said Ron, a pained expression overcoming him.

"_What?_" asked Hermione, not believing her ears.

"Don't marry him," said Ron.

"You… You can't be serious! Who do you think you are?" asked Hermione, getting suddenly angry. "You… You can't tell me what to do! It's just… I mean…"

"Can we talk?" asked Ron.

"You lost that chance a _long_ time ago, Ron," said Hermione sadly.

"I know I haven't been perfect, Hermione," said Ron. "I know that–"

"That is the understatement of the year, Ronald! _You_ broke my heart, remember? Remember how you… _smashed_ it in a million little pieces and then you left because you didn't know how to clean up? And now you think that because you're back… I… I just…" Hermione seemed at a loss for words.

"I can't drop everything and go back to you like nothing happened, Ron," she said, her voice beginning to tremble. "I'm… I'm not the same person anymore. I have been through so much... I've had to pick up the pieces of my life and start over again. Without you."

"I won't let you do it," said Ron.

"Ron…" said Hermione, tears starting to slide down her cheeks. "I'm not about to throw away everything good I have with Michael just because you are beginning to realize your mistakes."

"You can't seriously think he loves you," said Ron, looking disgusted.

"He was there for me when you weren't, Ron!" Hermione burst out, her tears ruining her makeup. "What am I supposed to think?"

"I'm not even asking you to take me back! Just reconsider–"

"Just leave, Ron!" exclaimed Hermione, who was sobbing now. "Leave me alone! It's just… It's too late."

"Hermione…"

"Please, Ron," whispered Hermione, clutching her heart. "Just… go. You shouldn't even be here."

Ron, without saying another word, pressed the button to the lift and turned to face Hermione.

"I… I really hope you're happy, Hermione. I really hope you're doing the right thing."

The doors to the lift opened, Ron walked in, and without looking at Hermione, he closed the doors.

Hermione let out a painful scream and collapsed on the floor. She felt breathless. She wanted to run; she wanted to tell Ron that it wasn't too late, that she loved him and that she would have to be crazy to let him go. But she knew she wouldn't. She knew she _couldn't_. She couldn't do that to Michael, to Beth, not even to Mrs. Sandford. She had to carry out her part of the deal. She had given Michael that "yes" on Christmas morning and now that she was pregnant, she couldn't walk away just like that. Not after what Ron had done two years ago. Not after he left.

While Hermione kept sobbing, the doors to the lift opened once more and this time Angelina, Angie, Fleur, and Philip walked out.

"Hermione!" exclaimed Angelina. "What happened?"

"He came over here, Angelina," said Hermione, sobbing.

"Who? Michael?" asked Angelina, confused.

Hermione shook her head.

"Ron…" said Fleur breathlessly.

Hermione cried even harder.

"Oh no…" said Angelina. "Let's get her up, Fleur. Angie, Philip, everything's fine. Just… sit over there."

Angelina and Fleur picked Hermione up and dragged her to bed. Hermione calmed down a bit.

"I'm so sorry," she said through sobs. "I must look dreadful…"

"Hermione, what happened?" asked Angelina.

"He just… Ron… He came up here to tell me not to get married."

"How _could_ he? I swear, Ron has the most inappropriate timing in the universe," said Angelina.

"He must have been desperate," said Fleur.

"Let's just clean you up before you stain your dress," Angelina told Hermione. "Fleur, stay here with her. I'll see if I can get a Calming Draught. Or possibly something stronger."

Five minutes later Angelina was back, and you would have never known Hermione had had a breakdown.

"How are you feeling?" asked Fleur.

"I'm fine," said Hermione. "Perfectly fine."

"If you repeat that enough times, you might start to believe it," said Angelina.

"Where are the kids?" asked Hermione.

"They're in the sitting room," said Fleur.

"Do you… want to talk about it?" asked Angelina tentatively.

"No," said Hermione decidedly. "I can't."

"Hermione, you were sobbing when we got here," said Angelina. "It must have meant something to you."

"I said I don't want to talk about it," said Hermione, getting up from the bed and walking over to the sitting room.

"Darlings!" she exclaimed as she saw Philip and Angie, putting on a perfect smile. "You look so charming! Angie, that dress! And Philip, your suit! You both look perfect!"

Angie got up quickly to hug Hermione.

"Hermione… Are you sure–"

"I said I'm fine, Angelina," said Hermione, planting a kiss on Angie's head. "Let's just forget it ever happened."

"I like your dress, Aunt Hermione," she said.

"Thank you, sweetie! But I must admit… I don't look as pretty as you do."

Angie blushed.

"Hello!" exclaimed Beth as the lift's doors opened once more.

"Beth!" said Hermione in surprise. "Is everything ready?"

"Everything's perfect. Don't worry about a thing," said Beth.

"You know Angelina and Fleur don't you?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, we met briefly downstairs," said Beth excitedly, shaking Angelina and Fleur's hands. "I think I also sent one of your husbands over here…"

"Oh, that was my brother in law," said Angelina.

"He just came to say 'congratulations'," explained Hermione quickly.

"Oh, what a shame he's not staying…" said Beth innocently. "Anyway, are these two the ring bearer and the flower girl?"

"Yes," said Angie brightly. "I'm Angie. He's Philip."

"And how old are you?" asked Beth.

"They are both three years old," said Fleur.

"Just like Marcus!" exclaimed Beth. "He's my second son."

"How many do you have?" asked Fleur.

"My eldest son is Spencer, who's four. Then comes Marcus, then Andrew, of course, who is one, and I just had a girl, Charlotte."

"Angie is just one part of my set of triplets," said Angelina. "I have two more boys."

"Oh dear!" exclaimed Beth. "Are they as energetic as she is?"

"Oh, by no means," said Angelina, laughing. "Angie has always been the quiet one."

"Well, Angie, I think you look very pretty," said Beth, grinning. "And Philip, you look smashing. But we should get going. Angelina, you'll walk down the aisle with John, my husband, and Fleur, you will walk down the aisle with Ben, who is a very good friend of the family. You will both be in good hands."

"Alright," said Angelina.

"Hermione, are you all set?" asked Beth.

"Yes," said Hermione nervously.

"Well, let's get this show on the road!" said Beth.

Within five minutes they were standing in front of the doors to the Queen Elizabeth Room, where the ceremony would take place. Ms. Rocher was talking furiously into her headset, making sure everything was in order.

"The Royal Phil is ready, Miss Granger," she told Hermione. "Everything's set."

"So–"

"Just say when," said Ms. Rocher.

Hermione swallowed.

"Ready?" asked Beth.

Hermione nodded, afraid that her voice would fail if she attempted to speak.

"Start the music," Ms. Rocher said into the headset.

The doors opened slowly, and Angie started heading down the aisle, spreading rose petals along the path. Philip followed her, carrying the rings. Soon after, Angelina, John, Fleur, Ben, and Beth were walking down the aisle.

Now it was Hermione's turn.

As soon as the fanfare started, the four hundred guests that were waiting for the bride's arrival stood up in anticipation. As she walked into the room, Hermione felt small. Elizabeth Sandford had done one hell of a job.

Everything was perfect. White flowers everywhere seemed to set the theme of the wedding, which appeared to be 'simply white,' as Hermione had once heard her mother-in-law suggest. The altar was simple, yet elegant, decorated by a stunning arrange of white roses. The orchestra was playing by the side in a makeshift stage, surrounded by a forest of white lilies of all shapes and sizes.

Hermione felt all eyes on her as she walked toward Michael, who was standing at the altar with Liam and the representative from the Ministry of Magic that would oversee the ceremony.

Michael smiled fondly at Hermione when she stood besides him.

Soon after that, they were exchanging vows. To Hermione, the ceremony went by in a blur. All that time planning and preparing for a moment that would be forgotten after a few hours by everyone except Michael and her seemed like time wasted. After all, she had always wanted a quiet, intimate ceremony with those closest to her. Right now she couldn't even see anyone familiar.

"By the power vested in me," concluded the Ministry's officer, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. Michael, you may kiss your bride."

And just like that, Michael swept Hermione up and kissed her. At first, it seemed rough, but soon Hermione felt herself giving way to Michael's _unique_ charm and she found herself wrapping her arms slowly around him.

Everyone cheered as the orchestra started playing the "Bridal March," and the newlyweds walked down the aisle.

"It was absolutely wonderful," said Ms. Rocher as she met Michael and Hermione outside the room. "Now we're going to send everybody to the Marie Antoinette Suite while you get your pictures taken upstairs... Mrs. Sandford, are you alright?"

Hermione was taken aback as she heard Ms. Rocher refer to her as "Mrs. Sandford."

"Er… I'm fine," replied Hermione. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem a bit… distraught," said Ms. Rocher.

"She's right, sweetheart," said Michael. "You don't look so good."

"Michael, I…" said Hermione, making a strong effort to speak coherently. "It's fine… I feel…"

But before Hermione could finish the sentence she felt herself drifting backward, Michael screaming for Ben, and strong hands trying to grab hold of her.

---

"Someone's knocking on the door."

"What?"

"Someone's at the door, Harry."

"Fine, I'll get up," said Harry, not looking up from the papers he was reading. "Do you want anything?"

"Bring me some ice cream when you come back," said Ginny.

"Ginny, you've had eight Chocolate Frogs already," said Harry. "Not to mention the Licorice Wands and the Cockroach Clusters."

"Oh, and check if you can get Butterbeer too," added Ginny, not listening to her husband.

"Do you want treacle fudge with that too?" asked Harry, sarcastically.

"Now that you mention it…"

"Oh, please," said Harry, getting up. He went downstairs and opened the door to find Ron standing in front of him.

"Great," said Harry. "Coming to join the party?"

"I'm not in the mood," said Ron dryly.

"Come on up. But you have to help me carry your sister's requests upstairs."

"I'm used to it by now," said Ron.

Ron and Harry walked upstairs together in silence. Ron threw himself on the bed next to Ginny, opening a Butterbeer bottle and handing his sister, who had been sulking for hours, according to Harry, a pint of Florean Fortescue's Best Ice Cream. Harry sat by Ginny's other side, eating Every Flavour Beans out of a tin.

They looked like they were at a funeral.

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Harry.

"No," replied Ron and Ginny in unison.

"Fine by me," said Harry. "So, anyway, what have you been up to, Ron?"

---

"Hermione… Wake up…"

Hermione opened her eyes slowly to find herself looking up at a very worried Beth. She was lying on a bed in her wedding gown, which was unzipped at the back.

"What's going on?" asked Hermione softly. "Where am I?"

"You fainted," said Beth. "Are you feeling alright?"

Hermione nodded.

"Ben said you were just dehydrated," said Beth. "Drink this."

"What is this?" Hermione asked.

"A replenishing potion."

"It's disgusting," said Hermione after drinking it.

"It's for your own good," retorted Beth.

"Where's Michael?" asked Hermione.

"He's outside," said Beth. "Do you want to see him?"

"Yes," said Hermione softly.

Beth stood up and exited the room. Shortly after Michael came into the room.

"Hermione," he asked worriedly, "how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Michael. I really am."

"When was the last time you ate?" Michael inquired. "Mum said you barely had breakfast, for God's sake!"

"I… I'm sorry," said Hermione.

"Hermione, you have to take care of yourself. I'm starting to think that we shouldn't go on the honeymoon after all."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Hermione. "I'm fine. Speaking of which, how's your mother?"

"She's outside…" said Michael tentatively.

"She's complaining about me, isn't she?" asked Hermione.

"Don't mind what she's saying," said Michael. "It's all nonsense."

"Is the party in full swing downstairs?" asked Hermione.

Michael laughed.

"Why? Do you want to party?" he asked.

"Maybe," Hermione teased.

"Do you? Do you want to go downstairs?"

"I just don't feel like being up here all night." Hermione feared that if she stayed in her room thinking she might breakdown again.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" said Michael. "Let's go."

As soon as they got downstairs, Hermione and Michael were beleaguered by Ms. Rocher, who reminded them that they had yet to take the wedding portraits. An hour later, the newlyweds were finally making their way to the dance floor, where they danced to Frank Sinatra's songs practically all night.

As she went to take a seat, Hermione spotted Molly Weasley at the other end of the ballroom. She made her way steadily to the table where the Weasley's were sitting, noticing they were getting up.

"Molly!" exclaimed Hermione.

"Hermione, dear!" said Molly, hugging Hermione.

"Thank you so much," whispered Hermione, so only Molly could hear her. "I know you don't even want to be here… But thank you _so_ much…"

"It's all for you, darling," Molly whispered back as Hermione pulled away.

"Are you leaving? So soon?"

"The kids are tired…" said Bill apologetically.

"I… I understand," said Hermione, a wave of unmistakable grief washing over her.

"Are you feeling alright?" asked Molly.

Hermione nodded.

"We must get going," said Bill.

"Thank you for coming," said Hermione.

And that was it.


	9. Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better

**Chapter Nine**

**Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better**

_Dear Ginny:_

_Thank you for the gift. It was so beautiful I do not see myself using it… However, I have a feeling I'll be serving tea to my mother-in-law in that set._

_The wedding was beautiful. I wish you and Harry could have been there. I'm on my way to Madrid now, and if you need to contact me, Michael's sister, Beth, has all the details of our hotels and the dates we will be in each city (I've enclosed directions on how to reach Beth with this letter.) We will be touring Europe for about two and a half months._

_I really hope you are both happy and healthy. I'll see you soon._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

---

"Hermione wrote," said Ginny.

"Yeah? What did she say?" asked Harry.

"Just thanking us for the gift," said Ginny. "And telling us how to contact her during the… the…"

"Honeymoon," offered Harry.

"Don't say it," said Ginny, looking disgusted.

"Ginny, she's pregnant," said Harry. "Don't look so… disturbed."

Ginny shot Harry a warning look.

"Anyway," continued Harry, "where are they going?"

"Harry!" exclaimed Ginny. "How could you be like that? Doesn't it bother you at all?"

"Well, can I do anything about it?" asked Harry, exasperated. "You know it's bothering me. You know how I feel about having the two, most stubborn people in the world as my best friends."

Ginny looked as if she was about to cry.

"I just… I didn't think she would go through with it, you know," said Ginny.

"I understand. To tell you the truth, I didn't think she would marry him, either. But tell me something, where _are_ they going?" asked Harry, curiously, changing the subject.

"Harry!"

"What?"

"_Fine! _They will be 'touring Europe' for two months."

"But it's February!" exclaimed Harry.

"Yes, I know," said Ginny. "And I hope they freeze to death."

---

"Good morning! Get up! The day is beautiful!" exclaimed Michael, opening the curtains.

"Michael, I'm really tired," said Hermione. "Can't we sleep a bit more today?"

"We're in Athens, Hermione! We must see it today!" said Michael excitedly.

"I thought you were thirty, Michael," said Hermione, laughing. "But you're starting to sound like Spencer."

"And what's wrong with him?" asked Michael in mock defiance.

"We just got here last night… I'm worn out! To be honest, it is not so comfortable to get around anymore. It is getting hot: I get tired quickly… And my clothes are getting _really_ tight, by the way."

"Then we'll buy you new clothes," said Michael simply. "We only have three days here, Hermione."

"But I thought we were going to be here for a week," said Hermione.

"No," said Michael. "I said we were going to be in _Greece_ for a week."

"Oh," said Hermione. "I didn't realize…"

"Come on! Don't they say 'do as the Greeks do'?"

"It's 'When in _Rome_, do as the _Romans_ do'," said Hermione, slightly annoyed.

"Which reminds me," said Michael, looking around for something, "we have to be in Rome by next week if we have to finish by the first of April."

"Why do we _have_ to finish by April 1st?" asked a surprised Hermione, sitting up.

"Because…" said Michael uncomfortably, "I arranged some meetings for that week. I'll have to be back in London by then."

"Are you joking? Because this is not funny, Michael," said Hermione.

"I wish I were joking, sweetheart," said Michael. "But it _is_ time to go back… We've had about five weeks of pure bliss–"

"But we agreed on two months, Michael," said Hermione. "You promised."

"Hermione," said Michael, firmly, "I can't do anything about it. They need me in London. Let's just enjoy the rest of the week. By next week, we will be in Rome! Isn't that exciting?"

"I guess," said Hermione unenthusiastically.

"Come on, get dressed and let's go."

---

_Dear Hermione,_

_I hope you are having a good time in Greece. Beth told us you would be getting ready to go to Rome when this letter reached you, so I hope you are alright and "on schedule."_

_I'm writing to let you know that the babies made their grand appearances last night. You have two nephews and a niece. The first one to arrive was Henry Arthur Potter, who arrived at 11:45 p.m., weighed four pounds, and measured __39 centimetres. The second one was Ronald James Potter, who arrived a minute after his brother and also weighed four pounds but measured 41 centimetres (he had to be a Ron, right?). Last but certainly not least, Rebecca Jane Potter (Becky was middle-named Jane after her aunt, of course) who was born at 11:47 p.m. and weighed three-and-a-half pounds and measured 38 centimetres._

_The babies are beautiful and healthy, but they will have to spend about a week in the hospital since they are still very small. Ginny is fine; she was brilliant during the whole process and told me to tell you she misses you very much and that she cannot wait for you to get back. Neither can Henry, Ron, and Becky, who are anxious to meet Aunt Hermione._

_Hope to see you soon,_

_Harry_

---

It was a particularly gloomy day. Michael and Hermione were just arriving to their hotel, The Inn, in Rome, when it started raining.

"We have impeccable timing," Michael told Hermione as they got out of the car.

As they walked into the hotel, Hermione felt right at home. The hotel was small but beautiful.

"Buon giorno," said the concierge, as Michael and Hermione approached him. "Come sta, signiore?"

"Bene, grazie," replied Michael, in perfect Italian. "Parla inglese?"

"Of course, sir," replied the concierge, in a distinct Italian accent. "How may I help?"

"We have a reservation. Michael Sandford," said Michael.

"Well, of course, Mr. Sandford. We have been expecting you." The concierge snapped his fingers and two bellhops appeared like magic. "Paolo! Alfonso! Il bagaglio!"

"You will be staying at the Penthouse, if I am not mistaken," said the concierge.

"That's correct," said Michael. "For a week."

"Very well," said the concierge. "That will be €3,000 per night. I will need a credit card."

Hermione almost choked on the water she had been drinking. Michael noticed her reaction and told her "I got it, okay?" She glared at him.

"Here are your room keys… I also have a letter addressed to a Ms. Hermione Granger…" said the concierge. "It was forwarded by a hotel in… Santorini. In Greece. I assume that is you, Mrs. Sandford?"

"Um, yes," said Hermione awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with Michael.

"Here you go," said the concierge.

"Grazie," said Hermione, putting the envelope inside her new Birkin bag, which Michael had _insisted_ on buying when they were in Paris.

"Prego," replied the concierge.

"Thank you," said Michael, grabbing his carry-on bags and heading to the lift.

"You are welcome," said the concierge. "Have a pleasant stay."

Michael and Hermione walked silently inside the lift as soon as the doors opened. Hermione was the first to speak when the doors closed.

"Three _thousand_ euros? _A night_? We are paying twenty one _thousand_ euros for a _week_!"

"Hermione… _I_ am paying twenty one thousand euros."

"Michael! That is reckless spending!"

"What do you want me to do?"

"It's money that can be put to better use!" exclaimed Hermione. "Have you ever considered donating something to charity? Maybe _our child_?"

"Oh, please… In case you haven't noticed, I happen to have a lot of money. Besides, we donate every year. Remember the gala, _Ms. Granger_?"

"Oh, shut up, Michael. The letter must be from Harry and Ginny."

"What? Didn't they get the memo?" asked Michael, as the doors of the lift opened and he walked out towards the double doors at the end of the corridor.

"Don't change the subject. I'm talking about doing serious things for charity, not about your mother picking a night to dress up and show off in front of her–"

Hermione didn't get a chance to finish that thought. Michael opened the doors of their room to reveal a truly incredible room. There were frescoes in the ceiling, for God's sake! A working fireplace, windows _everywhere_, and through the white double doors to the left, what looked like the hugest bed Hermione had ever seen. There was a lovely terrace to the right, looking out to Via dei Condotti and the Piazza di Spagna.

"I think this is worth every penny," said Hermione, dumbfounded.

"I'm glad you think so. What shall we do first? Unpack? Eat? Order tea? Or shall we have some fun?" said Michael, raising his eyebrows suggestively at Hermione. Without waiting for an answer, he walked toward her and started unbuttoning her blouse while simultaneously nibbling and kissing Hermione's neck.

"I, uh… I think we should… Oh God… That feels… _Michael_… I don't think you should…"

An hour later, Michael and Hermione lay tangled in the covers of the magnificent bed.

"I think I have to do something but I forgot," said Hermione.

"Whatever," said Michael, starting to kiss Hermione's neck once more. "Want to have another go?"

"I think I will be fine for the rest of the day," said Hermione, grinning. "Actually, I think I will be fine for the rest of the week."

"You have a nice sense of humour," said Michael.

"Seriously, I'm trying to remember… What did I have to do?"

"I can tell you–"

"The letter!" exclaimed Hermione. "I haven't opened it!"

"Right," said Michael, getting up. "I think I'll hit the shower now."

Hermione got up, pulling the bed's sheets to cover herself. She looked hurriedly for her bag, spotting it on top of the dining room table. She sat down in the sitting room, ripping open the envelope impatiently.

As she read Harry's letter, Hermione felt her eyes welling up and a knot forming in her throat. Hot tears slid down her cheeks.

_I wasn't there_, was all she thought. _Ginny gave birth and I wasn't there_.

"What happened? Is everything alright?" asked Michael, walking into the living room, nothing but a towel around his waist. "Is Ginny okay?"

"She's fine," said Hermione, wiping the tears off her face. "She gave birth."

"What about the babies?" asked Michael.

"They're fine," said Hermione.

"So why are you crying?"

"I said I would be there, Michael. But I was too busy getting _a tan_," said Hermione, her voice breaking as she said "tan."

"Hermione, I'm sure she was fine," said Michael.

"That's not the point, Michael," said Hermione. "Harry and Ginny are my best friends. I should have been there. I _wanted_ to be there. I'm _such_ a horrible friend…"

"Oh, please, Hermione," said Michael. "You're not a bad friend. Now, would you please stop crying? I swear, I have never seen a woman cry as much as you do. Anything that happens just gets you going. Put a sock in it."

Michael's comment was so unexpected that Hermione stopped crying immediately. She looked at Michael directly in the eye, shock taking over her.

"You can be _such_ an insensitive _git_ sometimes, you know that?" said Hermione, almost screaming, and getting up from the couch angrily and walking into the bedroom.

"What the _hell_ is your problem?" asked Michael. "And since when do you talk like _that_?"

"I'm just telling it like it is," said Hermione, looking around the room for the black trousers she had been wearing earlier. She found them under the bed and quickly put them on. Then she picked up her blouse and buttoned it up hurriedly, while walking into the sitting room to get her shoes.

"What are you doing?" asked Michael.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Michael? I'm getting dressed," said Hermione.

"Where are you going?" asked Michael.

"I don't know," said Hermione. "But I'd rather be anywhere but here right now."

Hermione grabbed her purse and walked toward the door. As she pulled it open, Michael closed it.

"You're not going anywhere, Hermione," said Michael, standing between Hermione and the door.

Hermione reached for the doorknob once again and this time Michael grabbed her wrist.

"You can't do that anymore," he said.

"Let me go, Michael," said Hermione nervously.

"You think you can keep manipulating me?" continued Michael, each time forcing Hermione's wrist more and more. "You can't throw a fit anytime you please…"

"Michael…" said Hermione, clearly shaken. "_The baby_… Let me go…"

"Stop blowing things out of proportion. I'm getting tired of it–"

"Michael! Please!" cried Hermione, tears coming out without warning. "Let me go! You're going to break my wrist!"

Michael let Hermione go, but still kept his position in front of the door. Hermione stumbled back a bit. She steadied herself and reached inside her bag, not taking her eyes off her husband. She took out her wand and pointed it directly at him.

"Get out of the way," she said. "I mean it." She noticed her hand was shaking and so were her legs.

Michael, taken aback, grabbed the door handle and opened the door.

Hermione walked out of the room as fast as she could without running, not daring to glance at Michael as she did, thinking it would set him off. Once out, she didn't even wait for the elevator: she took the stairs.

When she got out of the hotel, panting after practically running down the stairs, Hermione started walking towards the Spanish Steps. She broke down as she sat down in front of the Trinità dei Monti. Here she was crying her eyes out in one of the most romantic, most beautiful cities in the entire world. She was terrified. Utterly and undoubtedly terrified. She didn't know what she would do now. People started staring at her after a while. When she started walking again and she caught a glimpse of herself in front of a window display, she understood exactly why.

Her hair was all over the place after the mid-day romp with Michael; her satin blouse was all wrinkled; and her makeup, namely her mascara, was smudged all over her face.

Hermione walked inside a restaurant to use the restrooms. She washed her face, put her sunglasses on, and kept on walking.

---

By the time the sun had gone down and Rome's partygoers started making their way into nightclubs, Hermione was still walking.

Now she was sitting in front of the Colosseum, wondering what the hell had happened to her life and when had her husband turned into such a bi-polar control freak. It was getting chilly, and she was wondering whether she should go back to the hotel, when she felt someone tap her shoulder. She almost jumped out of her skin.

"Scusi, signora– _Hermione?_"

"_Viktor?_ What the… How did you… What on earth are you doing here?"

"I vos going to ask the same," said Viktor Krum, a bit confused.

"I'm here for my honeymoon," said Hermione, getting up and giving Viktor a kiss on the cheek and a hug. "You speak Italian?"

"Only a bit. I have heard about the vedding," said Viktor. "Congratulations."

Hermione smiled feebly. "What are you doing here?" she asked again.

"I am vith the team," said Viktor, "Ve are playing vith Italy."

"That's such a weird coincidence," said Hermione, looking at Viktor in fascination. "How did you find me?"

"I vos not planning to," Viktor admitted. "I vos coming from the Forum and I vos going to tell you that a lady vith such an expensive purse should not be sitting here alone, especially at night."

"How do _you_ know this is an expensive purse?" asked Hermione, smirking.

"My girlfriend has one," replied Viktor, laughing. "Vhy are you sitting here alone?"

"I… Well, Michael and I…"

"Say no more," said Viktor. "I understand." He hesitated before adding, "Do you vant me to take you back?"

"Would that be too much trouble?" asked Hermione timidly.

"Not at all. Come."

Viktor hailed a taxi and hopped in with Hermione. She gave the driver the hotel's address and within minutes, they were standing on the Piazza de Spagna.

"Would you like to get a cup of tea?" asked Hermione. "They must have some around here somewhere."

"You British girls and your tea," said Viktor, laughing.

They walked into a restaurant next to the Hermès boutique and by the time they sat down at the table, Hermione was already feeling better.

"How have you been?" she asked.

"It has been great," said Viktor. "I bought a house in London."

"I heard! By the way, how is that German supermodel girlfriend of yours?" asked Hermione, grinning.

Viktor raised his eyebrows.

"What?" asked Hermione innocently. "Fine, maybe I read _Witch_ _Weekly_ sometimes…"

"_You_ read _Vitch_ _Veekly_?" asked Viktor.

"Well, I have to keep up with everything they say about me," said Hermione.

"I _have_ been following you through the magazines," said Viktor, laughing. "Fascinating things, they say."

"Well, you know as well as I do that most of it is not true," said Hermione. "But you _are_ Stephanie Tasch's boyfriend, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Krum. "She's a handful."

Hermione laughed.

They spent about an hour talking and laughing, catching up, just until Viktor realized he had to get back to his hotel.

"It's been great talking to you," said Hermione, giving Viktor a hug.

"You too," said Viktor, handing her a piece of paper. "Here is my address. Anything you need… You know."

"Thank you so much."

"Thank _you_," said Viktor. "And please say 'hello' to Harry for me."

---

As Hermione walked towards the penthouse's door, she started wondering whether she should go in or not. She decided to open the door before she changed her mind.

To her great surprise, Michael wasn't there.

She looked everywhere; there was no trace of her husband. Suitcases were still packed; everything was in its place. However, there was no Michael Sandford.

After deciding she didn't care, Hermione took a long bath in the enormous tub in the bathroom and went to bed. It wasn't until 4:30 a.m. that she heard the door open.

Michael sat down on the bed, took off his shirt, and lay down next to his wife.

The next morning, Michael got up early, went to get the paper, and got back into bed.

"Hermione?" he whispered.

She pretended to be asleep.

Needless to say, this honeymoon was definitely over.

---

Hermione tried to avoid Michael for the rest of the week. He also avoided her. Anything they had to say, they tried to say in as little words as possible, and sometimes it would be things like, "Where are you going today?" Then the other would reply, "I don't know."

On March 31, Michael and Hermione packed their bags finally to depart to London.

"We're leaving in fifteen minutes," said Michael, looking at his watch.

"Fine, let me get my things," replied Hermione dryly.

Michael and Hermione arrived to Fiumicino International Airport just in time to catch their flight. They sat on their first class seats quietly –Hermione opened a book- and they did not utter a single word to each other until they got to baggage claim in Heathrow Airport.

"Who's picking us up?" asked Hermione.

"Beth said she would send a car," replied Michael.

After picking up their luggage, Michael and Hermione walked silently outside to look for the car and get home as soon as possible. Sure enough, Hugo was waiting for them with the company's Mercedes ready.

---

The ride home was uneventful. It was raining when they got to Hogsmeade, and after saying 'hi' to Anne, Hermione walked upstairs without even glancing at Michael.

The next morning Hermione woke up relatively early after a very good night's sleep. Michael had not slept next to her.

She went downstairs to the kitchen and fixed herself an omelette. Then she sat down at the dining room table. The numerous newspapers lying on the table indicated that Michael was already up and running.

Hermione looked at the _Daily_ _Prophet_'s front page, and when she realized what the cover story was about, she almost choked on her omelette.

There was a huge photograph of her and Viktor Krum hugging in front of the Colosseum. The headline read: _Krum Offers a Shoulder to Cry On._

"Hello," said Anne, coming into the dining room.

Hermione was still staring at the _Prophet_'s front page.

"Hermione? Is everything alright?"

"Have you _seen_ this?" said Hermione in utter disbelief.

"What? Have I seen–" Anne stopped abruptly as her eyes lay on the newspaper's front page. "Oh, dear God…"

"I am going to kill those people!" said Hermione.

"When was that?" asked Anne.

"It was in Rome…"

"Obviously," said Anne.

"At the beginning of the week," finished Hermione.

"I don't know what to say…" said Anne.

"Merlin… Just wait until my mother-in-law sees it," said Hermione.

"Can I get you anything? A Calming Draught, perhaps?"

"I… I'm not quite…"

"Tea! That's it!" Anne exited the dining room quickly.

Against her better judgement, Hermione began reading.

_**Krum Offers a Shoulder to Cry On**_

_**By Megan Wickham**_

_**Special Correspondent**_

_It seems married life has not suited Hermione Sandford, née Granger._

_While on her extravagant honeymoon through Europe, it was obvious that the new Mrs. Michael Sandford has had a little difficulty adjusting to her new life. Sources said she spent most of her first afternoon in Italy crying and wandering around Rome's beautiful streets. It wasn't until she spent a bit of time contemplating the Colosseum that we noticed she was waiting for none other than her ex, Bulgarian Quidditch player Viktor Krum, current boyfriend of German supermodel Stephanie Tasch (the same model that has been keeping Muggle runways hot this season.)_

_Sandford and Krum cuddled and kissed under the stars and then hopped into a private car that took them to a very romantic "ristorante" in Via dei Condotti. __**Turn to page 6…**_

Hermione quickly turned to page 6. What she saw next was not a pretty sight.

There were loads of pictures of her spread all over pages six and seven. There was even a timeline, where they depicted the "atmosphere" in each and every location she had visited with Michael over the past weeks. It seemed that they had been watched 24/7 over the last month or so. The timeline started with them holding hands while walking through La Gran Via in Madrid, and finished with a few pictures of them coming out of Heathrow and getting into the company's black Mercedes Benz. Even pictures of Hermione crying in front of the Trinità dei Monti made their way into the newspaper. There were also a few pictures of her touring Rome on her own, and other pictures of Michael; in most of them, he was at a bar, drinking alone.

Hermione was startled when the phone rang suddenly. She got up and picked it up quickly.

"Hello?"

"Hermione!" said Beth, a little too cheerful. "How are you?"

"You saw it, didn't you?" said Hermione.

"Sweetheart, I already have my people working on it," said Beth.

"People? What people?" asked Hermione.

"Didn't I tell you? I got an assistant," said Beth. "She helps me with my charity things… Now she's working with my lawyers to see what they can do about this… _situation_."

"Thanks, Beth," said Hermione.

"I know what it's like," said Beth. "This is no problem at all. Now, don't get stressed about this. The fact that they decided to dedicate almost an entire edition of the paper is… nothing important."

"They had to follow me," said Hermione. "It's amazing that I didn't notice. Moreover, who told them where we were going? Who knew?"

"Besides the family, I suppose Michael left word at the office," said Beth.

"I can't believe this is happening," said Hermione, her voice threatening to break.

"They do this all the time," said Beth. "But please… try to stay as calm as possible. Remember the baby. Why don't you visit Harry and Ginny? I know they miss you."

"Yeah… I think I'll go to London today. I miss them too. I want to meet the triplets."

"Well, tell them 'congratulations' for me."

"I'll introduce you properly once everything settles down," said Hermione.

"I would love that," said Beth. "I have to go now… Charlotte is crying."

"Bye," said Hermione. "Thank you, Beth."

"Don't mention it," said Beth.

Hermione walked upstairs as fast as she could. She took a quick shower and headed for the closet. It wasn't until she tried to get into her jeans that she noticed she could not wear them anymore.

"Oh, Merlin… This can't be happening."

She picked a pretty sundress and put it on.

"Anne…" Hermione yelled. "Could you help me up here?"

"What is it?" asked Anne, appearing at the closet's door.

"Would you zip me up?"

Anne tried to zip Hermione's dress up, but that seemed like an impossible task.

"I think you need to get a new wardrobe," Anne told Hermione.

That made Hermione remember that she had a batch of new clothes still packed in her suitcases. She opened the smallest suitcase and took out a short breezy blue dress. The dress had an empire waist, so it fit Hermione perfectly.

---

"Good morning," said Harry softly, walking into the triplets' room.

"Hi," replied Ginny, who was sitting on the rocking chair, feeding Becky.

"How are you feeling?"

"Happy," replied Ginny simply, smiling broadly.

Harry could not help to grin.

"Do you want anything?" he asked.

"Orange juice would be lovely," said Ginny, laughing lightly.

"Why are you laughing?" asked Harry.

"You've got such a silly grin on your face, I wish I had a mirror," said Ginny.

Harry laughed as he exited the room and went downstairs.

When he got to the kitchen, he opened a carton, and just as he was about to pour some of the liquid into a glass, the owl that delivered the _Daily Prophet_ appeared at the window.

He opened the window to let the owl in, grabbed the paper, and once he took a glance at today's front cover, he literally froze.

The owl pinched Harry lightly, bringing him back. He paid the owl seven Knuts and the owl happily flew away.

_This cannot be happening,_ he thought. _This isn't happening._

Harry sat down on top of the kitchen counter and began reading. It was incredible that one of his best friends was finding herself in the same position he had been in so many times.

"Harry Potter!" barked Ginny. "What the bloody hell are you doing sitting on my kitchen counters? Get off! And you better not be drinking milk out of the bloody carton again!"

Harry just stared at his wife still trying to digest what he had just read.

"There's something wrong, isn't it?" said Ginny seriously, realizing that her rant had not left Harry with his usual deer-caught-in-the-headlights look. She walked over to his side and said, "Is it bad?"

Harry simply handed over the paper.

"She's back," he said.

Ginny gasped.

"It's the whole front page, Harry," she said breathlessly.

"There's more inside," said Harry.

"How did they… I mean… How _could_ they…" Ginny was speechless. "These people…"

"They do this to sell papers, Ginny," said Harry gloomily.

"Harry… They're implying she's having an affair…" said Ginny, her eyes welling up. "As if she were capable of _doing_ such a thing… She doesn't deserve this. No one does."

"I know," replied Harry quietly. He got up and started opening drawers, as if looking for something.

"What are you looking for?" asked Ginny.

"I need parchment… and I need a quill," said Harry.

"What for?" asked Ginny.

"I'm not letting them do this anymore," said Harry. "I've had enough. This is supposed to be a newspaper, not a tabloid or an entertainment magazine. And if Hermione is, in fact, having trouble in her marriage, or even if she _were_ having an affair, that doesn't concern anyone but her."

"So you're going to send a letter to the editor?"

"I'll also write to the Ministry. There has to be a way to stop these people. And I'm not sending a letter. I'm sending a Howler."

---

By ten o'clock Hermione was on her way to London. She took Michael's car and stopped by Harrods, which was busting with people, to buy the babies' presents. After that, she drove across the city until entering Brick Lane. She parked the car right in front of Harry and Ginny's home, number 108.

108 Brick Lane was beautiful. Ginny had planted numerous kinds of flowers in the front garden, giving the house an air of hominess Michael's house didn't have, and that made Hermione feel welcome every time she visited the Potters. The house had three stories, and Harry had remodelled the basement to turn it into two spacious rooms, giving them enough rooms to accommodate the whole Weasley family at once. It was a house worthy of Elizabeth Sandford; beautiful inside and out. Indoors, there was an impressive winding staircase and Ginny had decorated every single room elegantly.

Hermione got out of the car with a bit of difficulty. She walked towards the door carrying the two large shopping bags from Harrods.

She heard commotion inside the house as she knocked the door. Someone opened the door quickly and it was not who she expected it to be.

"Molly!" exclaimed Hermione.

"Hermione! What are you doing here?" asked Molly, a bit disoriented.

That was definitely _not_ what Hermione was expecting to hear.

"Oh," said Hermione, startled, noticing there was a gathering of people inside the house. "I'm so sorry… I know I didn't call, but… Did I come at a bad time? I can come back later if you want."

"Oh no, Hermione," said Molly, realizing her behaviour was being misunderstood, "I'm so happy you're here! I just wasn't expecting you. We thought… Er… That you still had a month left in your honeymoon."

"Oh, we decided to cut it short," said Hermione. "Michael had to work, too, so…"

"Well, come in, dear!" exclaimed Molly, giving Hermione a hug. "We've missed you!"

"Are you celebrating?" asked Hermione, walking into the house.

"Yes! The boys are so happy. It was a surprise…" said Molly.

"I'm sorry?" said Hermione, confused.

"Fred and George! Harry and Ginny decided to throw them a surprise birthday party!" said Molly brightly, hanging Hermione's jacket in the cupboard under the stairs. "It was so kind of them… No one was expecting this, since they have the triplets to think about now…"

_April 1__st__. The twins' birthday,_ Hermione immediately remembered. _How could I have forgotten?_

"Hermione, dear," said Molly, a concerned expression taking over her features, "what happened to your wrist?"

"Oh! I…" Hermione wasn't planning in taking off her jacket. "Minor accident. I went skating with Michael…"

"I think Ginny has some Bruise Healing Paste in the kitchen," said Molly.

After dabbing a bit of Bruise Healing Paste on her wrist, and cursing herself for not thinking about that before, Hermione followed Molly into the back garden, and the first one to see her was Harry, who had been talking to Arthur.

His face lit up the minute he saw her.

"Hermione! You're back!" exclaimed Harry, making his way quickly across the yard and hugging Hermione tightly.

"Oh, Harry!" said Hermione. "It feels like it's been ages!"

"It really does," said Harry sincerely. "You look so… different!"

"I look so fat," Hermione corrected.

"No, you don't," said Harry. "You have that glow."

"Thank you," said Hermione, blushing. "Hi, everybody."

The rest of the people watching Harry and Hermione's display –Arthur, Fred, George, Bill, Charlie, and Fleur– started chattering all at once.

"You look lovely!"

"You're showing already!"

"How's the dog?" (This from George.)

"Pardon him; he meant 'the husband'." (This from Fred.)

"Fred! George!" barked Molly.

Hermione glared at the twins.

"If it weren't for your birthday…" she said.

"Don't listen to them," said Bill. "The fact that they are turning a year older doesn't mean that they're actually growing up."

Hermione smiled.

"Ginny's upstairs," Harry told Hermione. "She's been dying to see you."

As Harry pushed open the double doors to the triplets' room, Hermione gasped.

The room was beautiful. Painted in light yellow, it had a serene atmosphere. There were three identical, hand-painted cribs and many, many toys lying around. Ginny was sitting on the floor next to Angelina, Angie, Matthew, Ryan, and Philip. They were surrounded by three little rocker chairs– one pink, the other two blue.

"Oh my gosh…" said Ginny softly, getting up from the floor. "You're here!"

"Ginny! You look so pretty!" exclaimed Hermione. She was surprised to see Ginny had lost considerable weight. She made weight loss after pregnancy look extremely easy.

"You look pregnant already," said Ginny, laughing.

"I know! It feels weird," said Hermione.

"The glow… it suits you," said Ginny.

"Thank you," replied Hermione.

"Hermione!" exclaimed Philip, getting up from the floor and running towards Hermione.

"I've missed you," she said, giving him a hug and a kiss.

"What about us?" asked Angie, now standing behind Philip, next to her brothers.

"I've missed all of you," said Hermione. "Hi, Angelina," she added, noticing her friend laughing in the background.

"Well, Hermione," interrupted Harry, beaming, "there are a few people you need to meet."

"I believe I do," said Hermione, walking toward the little rocker chairs.

Ginny bent over the pink rocker chair to pick up one of the babies.

"This is Becky," she said, handing Hermione a raven-haired girl that stared back at her with big, brown eyes. A couple of seconds went by before Becky flashed Hermione a hint of a smile.

"Oh, Ginny," gushed Hermione. "She's perfect. And this hair… Harry, you _cannot_ deny this is your daughter."

"And this little man over here," said Harry, holding a blue bundle in his arms, "is Henry."

Hermione looked at the baby in Harry's arms and just smiled. Henry was perfect as well; hair as dark as his sister's and eyes just as brown. His hair was sticking out in all directions. He had his little hand wrapped around Harry's index finger, trying to get it into his mouth.

"Last but _certainly_ not least," said Ginny, holding another blue bundle, "_this_ is Ron."

"What a nice name," said Hermione, smiling at Harry and Ginny.

To Hermione, Ronald looked _exactly_ like Henry.

"Are they identical?" asked Hermione. "How can you tell Henry and Ron apart?"

"That's easy," said Ginny. "Ron sleeps most of the time, and Henry is _always_ awake. Hence the dark, _dark_ circles around my eyes."

Hermione laughed.

"Let's go downstairs," said Ginny. "I want to show you the babies' first pictures."

"Let's go darlings," Angelina told the kids, going out of the room and leading the way downstairs.

"Before I forget," said Hermione, "those bags over there have a few things for the babies."

"Hermione! You shouldn't have!" exclaimed Ginny, putting Ron in his crib and grabbing one of the olive green bags next to the door. She sat down on a rocking chair and opened one of the beautifully wrapped presents. She gasped when she took out a soft blue cashmere blanket that had Henry's initials embroidered on the corner.

"Hermione… This is…"

"Ron has a matching one with his initials and Becky has a pink one with her initials," said Hermione.

"You really shouldn't have done this," said Ginny seriously.

"But we wanted to," replied Hermione. "Michael and I wanted to."

"Thank you," said Harry earnestly. "They're…"

"They're beautiful," said Ginny.

Hermione simply smiled. "Let's go downstairs. Do we take the babies?"

"Yeah," said Ginny.

As they all went downstairs, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione noticed that things were abnormally quiet.

"What?" asked Ginny jokingly, approaching the living room. "Did everyone leave?"

Then she stopped abruptly in the middle of the entrance to the sitting room.

"What is it, Ginny?" asked Harry. Then he also stopped abruptly next to Ginny.

Then Hermione saw it, as she stepped quietly behind Harry.

Ron was sitting on a chair in front of the fireplace with a pretty blonde girl_ sitting on his lap._

Everybody was sitting uncomfortably in their chair listening to Ron talk about his new job in the Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Even Fred and George were speechless.

"Ginny!" exclaimed Ron, only noticing Ginny standing in front of him. "Is that Ron?"

"Er… Who's she?" asked Ginny, attempting to smile.

"Oh, Ginevra," muttered Molly under her breath, shielding her face with her hands.

"I'm so sorry…" Ginny told the girl. "I just… I wasn't expecting to see anyone sitting on my brother's lap."

"Ginny, don't you remember me?" asked the blonde girl in a sweet voice.

Hermione _did_ remember who she was. _That_ was Ernie Macmillan's little sister, Claudia, who had been on Ginny's same year at Hogwarts, in Ravenclaw.

"Claudia?" asked Ginny, a hint of disgust in her voice.

"How are you!?" asked Claudia, getting up to give Ginny a kiss. "You look so beautiful! Ronnie said you just had triplets!"

"_Ronnie_?" hissed Ginny, glaring at her brother.

"I asked Claudia to come over with me to meet the family," said Ron, his ears turning pink.

"Oh, well, Ron never mentioned you, but how nice that you could join us for our little gathering," said Ginny, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"So," said Harry, "did you introduce her to everybody, Ron?"

"Yes. Claudia," said Ron, "I'm sure you remember Harry…"

"Of course," said Claudia politely. "How nice to see you again," she told Harry.

"Nice to see you, too," replied Harry. "Er, how's Ernie?"

"He's fine, thank you," said Claudia.

"Where's baby number three?" asked Ron, taking Henry from Harry's arms. "Claudia, when you see my niece you will die," he added, grinning.

"Becky is…"

"I have her right here," said Hermione, coming out of her "hiding" spot behind Harry.

Ron's expression was priceless. It's not necessary to say that the grin plastered across Ron's face a second ago was nowhere to be found now.

"Hermione," Ron managed to say in an even tone.

"Hi Ron," said Hermione quietly.

"You know what?" said George. "I'm going to get a Butterbeer. Anyone else?"

Everyone else in the living room, except Arthur, got up from his or her place talking all at once. Molly headed into the kitchen, followed by Charlie, Angelina, Fred, and George, and Fleur and Bill went outside with the kids. Arthur stayed in his place reading the paper.

"What are you doing here?" Ron asked Hermione.

"She can come whenever she wants, Ron," snapped Ginny.

"I didn't mean it that way, Ginny," Ron snapped back.

"I just came to see the triplets," said Hermione.

Claudia cleared her throat.

"Oh, er, Claudia, this is–"

"Oh, Ronnie, I know who she is," hissed Claudia. "Hi! I'm Claudia Macmillan. I'm–"

"Ernie's little sister," Hermione finished for her, smiling weakly. "I remember you. You look so different, though."

"Yes," said Ginny, "because the last time I saw you –"

"Ginevra!" shrieked Molly from the kitchen. "Get in here!"

"Excuse me," said Ginny.

"Oh, Ronnie! Look at her!" gushed Claudia, looking at Becky. "She's absolutely adorable!"

Ron remained silent.

"Ronnie! Are you here or in Uranus?" asked Claudia, laughing.

"Hermione, you look tired," said Angelina, coming out of the kitchen. "Let me have Becky."

Hermione handed Becky to Angelina without exchanging a word.

"Oh, and Harry," added Angelina, nervously, "Ginny wants to see you in the kitchen."

"Excuse me. I'll be right back," said Harry, looking at Hermione apologetically. "And I think I'm going to take Henry with me," he added, going back and taking the baby out of Ron's arms.

"I think I'm going to head home," said Hermione. "I'm going to get my bag."

Hermione headed upstairs. She went into the triplets' room and grabbed her purse.

She _had_ to get out of there. Otherwise, she would–

"We need to talk," said Ron, appearing at the door.

"What about?" asked Hermione breathlessly, swallowing hard.

"I… I want to apologize," said Ron, with great difficulty. "I should have never done what I did. To put you in that position… It wasn't fair."

"It's… You don't… It's fine, Ron," said Hermione.

Ron nodded.

"You look nice," he added, looking uncomfortable.

"Thank you," replied Hermione quietly. "I better go. Besides, you don't want to keep your girlfriend waiting," she added, hoping Ron would correct her.

He did no such thing. He just nodded and went downstairs.

Hermione tried to hold back her tears. Then she just stood there for a minute or two wondering _why_ she had to hold back tears.

_She_ broke up with Ron. She was supposed to feel happy. She was a newlywed. She was pregnant. Why did it feel like her life was crumbling to pieces? Why did she miss Ron so much? Why did she feel jealous of Claudia? Ron was moving on, just as she had. It was only fair that he did. But _had_ she moved on?

---

"Get her out of here," said Ginny.

"Are you serious?" asked Harry incredulously, handing Henry to Molly.

"You bet I am," said Ginny furiously. "I want Claudia out of my house, now."

"What do you expect him to do?" asked Fred seriously. "He can't tell Ron to kick her out."

"Well if Harry can't," said Ginny, getting up from her chair, "I most certainly will."

"Oh no, you won't," said Charlie, standing right in front of her.

"Don't you dare, Ginevra," said Molly. "I know it's uncomfortable, but to throw her out of here would be going too far."

"You know she's right, Ginny," said Harry.

"Has anyone talked to Hermione?" asked Charlie.

"No, we used sign language," said George.

"Shut up," said Charlie. "You know I'm talking about this morning's headlines."

"I can't believe Ron would do this," said Ginny, still talking about the uncomfortable "Claudia" situation.

"Why are you so upset, Ginny?" asked Fred. "Because Hermione saw their public display of affection?"

"No!" said Ginny. "It's because Ron brings a girl without telling anyone and then he expects us to _stand_ a public display of affection!"

Then Becky started crying.

"Look what you did!" exclaimed Molly.

"Ginny, if you don't lower your voice Claudia will hear you," said Harry, going over to where Angelina was sitting and taking Becky off her arms.

"I hope she does," muttered Ginny under her breath. "All of you know that what Ron is doing is out of line."

"Yes, dating," said Fred. "What an abomination."

"Ginny," said Molly softly, "we all know what you are going through right now. We all feel the same way you do. However, he's moving on. Just like Hermione did."

"I'm off," said Hermione, appearing suddenly at the door.

"So quickly?" asked Ginny.

"Do you really expect me to stick around?" asked Hermione, laughing.

"We need to talk," said Ginny. "You can't go yet."

"Oh, I definitely have an idea of what you want to talk to me about," said Hermione. "I know you're all probably worried about my state after this morning's beautiful array of pictures in the _Prophet_."

"I'm really sorry," said Charlie.

"Don't worry," said Hermione dismissively. "I'll be fine. I have to get used to this, don't I? And on the other sensitive matter, hopefully, there will come a time when Ron and I are not awkward around each other anymore."


	10. What Lies Ahead: Part One

_**A/N: Well, guys. It's been a while. After taking such a long break (mostly for reasons out of my control) I've missed writing a lot. From hospital visits, to malfunctioning computers (and erased chapters), the majority of things that could go wrong in my life went wrong over the past few months. But the **__**new year**__** gives me a clean slate to start over again and I can say that I'm not planning to take a hiatus anytime soon.**__****__**Chapter ten was so long (what can I say, I got a little carried away) that I had to split it **__**up, so this is part one of two.**_

**Chapter Ten**

**What Lies Ahead**

**(Part One)**

_"Hello," said Hermione brightly, talking to the owner of Flourish and Blotts. "I was wondering whether you could help me set up my books for the Transfiguration courses at __Hogwarts?__"_

_"Are you a student?" asked the old man behind the counter__, not even glancing at her_

_"I'm the __Transfiguration professor," said Hermione, __feeling awkward__. "Hermione Granger."_

_"Oh, yes," said the man__, looking up from his book__, "the bright one. __It's nice to see you again! __Tell me what you need."_

_After Hermione had sorted out the list of books for the courses she would be teaching, she made her way downstairs to pay for the new copies of Advanced Transfiguration she wanted. She had also stacked __**several**__ books she had been craving for ages; she was levitating some of them and the others were balanced in her arm, so her field of vision was blocked. __S__he couldn't see she was about to bump directly into the man walking into the store._

_"__Dear—Mother—of—Merlin__!" the man exclaimed__ in pain__, as all of Hermione's books fell on his feet._

_"I am terribly sorry," said Hermione, quickly bending over to pick up the books. She didn't even dare look at the man; she was sure her face was scarlet._

_"Wow, you sure seem to like reading," he said, helping her with the books._

_"Yes, I read a lot," said Hermione, laughing nervously. She quickly darted a glance at him, immediately thinking, __**Have**__** I seen him before?**_

_"I'm really sorry," she said once more, as he helped her carry the books to the register._

_"Don't worry about it," he said, flashing a stunning smile. "If you hated reading I wouldn't have met you."_

_**Is this man flirting with me?**__ Hermione thought, blushing even more._

_"I'm Michael, by the way," said the man, extending a hand. "Michael Sandford."_

_"I'm Hermione," she said, as her hand met his. "Hermione Granger. __It's n__ice to meet you."_

---

"Excuse me, Hermione," said Anne, appearing at the study's door.

"Huh?" responded Hermione distractedly. She was sitting on the windowsill, book in hand, looking out the window.

"Oh," said Anne, scanning her eyes around the messy room. "I didn't mean to interrupt you."

"I'm sorry Anne," apologized Hermione, looking tired. "Daydreaming... How can I help you?"

"I was just wondering whether you could talk to Michael about getting someone to get rid of the garden gnomes outside," said Anne. "I tried to kick them out myself, but two of them already bit me."

"Why don't you leave a note on top of the kitchen counter?" Hermione suggested, standing up to store the book she was reading, _Advanced Transfiguration_, inside one of the many boxes that lay open around her.

"Of course," said Anne, feeling uncomfortable. "Er... do you need any help here?"

"I'm fine," Hermione lied. She picked up her old copy of _Hogwarts: __A__ History_, and sat down.

"Right," said Anne slowly, walking away.

Over the last couple of weeks, it seemed that Hermione had undergone a radical change. The Hermione Anne had met just a few months ago had disappeared, having been replaced by a Hermione that barely talked, barely went out, and barely ate. If Hermione hadn't been bothered by something, she would have spent the days preparing the room for the baby, talking to Anne, or even going down to Diagon Alley to go on a shopping spree. On the contrary, the only time Hermione had ventured out of the door, planning to visit Flourish and Blotts, she came back quickly after leaving, looking flustered and dishevelled. When Anne asked if she was okay, Hermione practically ran up the stairs and locked herself in her room.

Yes, it was safe to say that Hermione Granger had definitely changed.

Not that Michael had been there to notice.

He and Hermione barely saw each other anymore. There had been a coldness steadily growing between them.

Anne had been there to notice though. And she had been there when Hermione needed her the most. When she felt sick, when she felt sad, and when she felt alone. Still, it was hard to help someone who thought she didn't need any help. Anne had been doing everything she could to keep Hermione distracted, but this week she had gone too far. Anne thought she had a good idea about what was bothering Hermione, since she had been around long enough to know that Michael Sandford was no Prince Charming.

Last Monday, Hermione had locked herself in Michael's study, taking with her six or seven boxes she had brought down from the attic. Those boxes had her old Hogwarts things: essays, pictures, even an extendable ear or two. No one knew why she was acting like this, and she was going to make sure things stayed that way.

---

"Hello!" exclaimed Beth brightly, as soon as Anne opened the door.

"Good morning!" said Anne. "What... erm... What brings you here? Is Hermione expecting you?"

"Actually, I was hoping to surprise her. Is she around?"

"Yes..." Anne hesitated.

"Brilliant!" said Beth, walking into the foyer. "Where is she?"

"She's in Michael's study, but–"

"Thanks!" Beth told Anne, already heading to the study.

Once she got to the room she tried to open the door, but she was surprised to find it locked. After she knocked on the door a couple of times, there was a bit of commotion inside the room as Hermione shouted, "Just a minute!"

Beth stood there, confused, waiting for Hermione to open the door. After a minute—or possibly longer—Hermione emerged, clad in pyjamas and wearing a sleepy expression on her face. She seemed to be making a huge effort to keep her eyes opened.

"Beth!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"I... I wanted to... surprise you," stammered Beth, looking at Hermione with concern. "Are you alright?"

Hermione, who had bags under her eyes and whose hair had returned to its usual frizzy self, tried to smile, but grimaced instead.

"I'm fantastic!" she answered.

"Um, are you going to let me in?" asked Beth uncomfortably.

"Of course!" said Hermione, reluctantly moving away from the door.

The only thing Beth could do was gasp as soon as she entered the study. There were boxes everywhere: some were open, others were closed. The desk had many papers on top of it, accompanied by books that Beth had not seen since she graduated Hogwarts.

"What is this?" she asked.

Hermione's face turned a deep shade of red.

"I've just... Well, I've been reading a bit and... Well these are some my old Hogwarts things..." muttered Hermione nervously.

"You do realize you're not making any sense," said Beth, who was still looking around the room.

"How are the children?" asked Hermione, desperate to change the subject.

"Wonderful," said Beth dryly. "But I believe the real question here is: how are _you_?"

"I'm _fine_," said Hermione, providing her default answer to the question she had been asked so many times over the last few days.

"Sure you are." The sarcasm in Beth's voice was unexpected. "Uh, when was the last time you went to see Ryan?"

"Ryan?"

"Ryan Martin?" Beth tried to clarify. When it was obvious that Hermione had no idea of who she was talking about, she exclaimed exasperatedly, "He's your _doctor_, Hermione!"

"Oh... Beth, I've just been so terribly busy ever since I came back..."

"I can't believe you! This isn't you! You're one of the most responsible people I know!"

Hermione's eyes started to well up.

"Listen, why don't you go upstairs, take a shower, and I'll take you out to lunch?" asked Beth, realizing that she was losing her temper.

"Why don't you tell Anne to put on the kettle?" said Hermione as she went out of the room.

"Okay," said Beth, heading towards the kitchen.

As Beth entered the kitchen, she found Anne reading at the table.

"Hi," said Anne. "Need anything?"

"I just need to know where the kettle is," said Beth, looking around.

"Oh, I can take care of that," said Anne, getting up.

"No, no," said Beth quickly, "I'll make the tea. I don't want to disturb you."

"But this is my job," said Anne.

"Sit down and don't move," said Beth.

"Fine," said Anne, laughing. "The kettle is in the cupboard over the stove."

"Thank you," said Beth. "Anyway, how have you been?"

Anne always found peculiar how Beth made her feel at ease, like they had been friends forever. The two had met before the wedding, when Beth had visited Hermione many times a week to deal with wedding preparations. Hermione had told Beth all about Anne: how her mother lived in France, how she was desperate to become a writer. Beth had been over to check on Anne while Michael and Hermione were on the honeymoon, and they had established a nice friendship.

"I've been writing a lot," Anne replied.

"That's good!" exclaimed Beth, looking inside her handbag for something.

"What are you looking for?" asked Anne.

"My wand," replied Beth. "I don't use it that often, so I don't keep it handy. It's a bloody pain to look for it, though. I just want to switch the stove on."

"Oh, I'll do it," said Anne, flicking her wand and making a small flame appear from under the kettle.

"Thanks," said Beth, sitting down. "How's your mum?"

"She's okay," said Anne. "I went to visit her a couple of weeks ago. She... Well, she is ill, so I worry a lot about her."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Beth. After a few seconds of silence, she decided to go ahead and ask what she had been dying to know. "Anne, do you know what's going on with Hermione?"

"Um, what do you mean?" asked Anne, nervously.

"Come on, Anne," said Beth, "you're here every day. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about."

"Alright," sighed Anne. "I don't know what has been bothering her, but I will be honest with you. The only things that Hermione has been doing lately have been sleeping and reading. Books, not the paper, mind you. She does not even know what has been going on in the world. You see that stack of papers over there? Those have been piling up since she stopped reading the _Prophet_. I did not want to throw them away in case she wanted to read them later, but I am seriously starting to doubt that. And those are not the only things piling up. There are _several_unopened letters placed on her nightstand; they've been accumulating since before the wedding. See? She will not even open the mail. Every morning, around ten, she comes downstairs and locks herself inside Michael's study. She says she's going over some of her old papers so she can send them to the new Transfiguration professor, but I think that she's really sleeping all day. Most days, if I do not insist, she will not eat. And I am really worried about the baby. It's like Hermione forgot she is pregnant at all. She has been putting off the visit to her doctor for two weeks. She was supposed to see him as soon as she came back. He has called twice, but she always tells me to say she is not here."

This was too much information for Beth. Anne was just happy to get this off her chest. She talked so fast, she was out of breath by the time she finished.

"Is this a joke?" asked Beth. "Why hasn't Michael done anything?"

"Actually, I think Michael has not noticed."

Beth snorted.

"Anne! Michael's not that daft! He must have noticed something!" she said.

"They barely see each other anymore, Beth," said Anne, blushing profusely. She didn't feel comfortable saying this to Hermione's sister-in-law, but if she didn't, no one would do anything about it.

"I guess..." she continued. "I guess that Michael arrives very late most days and-"

"Wait," said Beth, looking angry, "Michael leaves work _every_ day around six or seven. I know this for a fact because he leaves with my husband, John."

Anne remained quiet, looking down.

"Oh _God_!" exclaimed Beth in a horrified voice, suddenly realizing what that meant, her hands now clutching her head. "What else? What's been really going on over here?"

"Well Michael... He goes to work very early... That is when I see him, when I come in the morning. Last Saturday... Well he..." Anne hesitated. "_Merde__, je ne sais pas pour__quoi je te dis..._"

"Tell me, Anne," urged Beth. "And in English, if you don't mind."

"Oh, Beth..." said Anne, looking dismayed. "Last Saturday I got here around six in the morning. Around seven, I was cleaning the dining room when I felt the front door open. It was Michael, looking all hung over... He looked so upset when he saw me..."

"Anne... Why didn't you tell me all of this before?" asked Beth.

"You have no idea... If either of them ever find out I told you I'll be fired!"

"Oh, Hermione's not going to fire you!" said Beth. "Although Michael... What the hell has Michael been up to?"

The kettle came to a boil in that moment.

"Let's take this to the sitting room," said Beth.

About thirty minutes later, when Beth started to get very concerned about her brother's marriage, Hermione appeared downstairs, dressed in a breezy yellow summer dress that highlighted her growing bump. Beth realized that even though her sister-in-law's stomach had grown significantly before the wedding, she looked thinner than the last time she had seen her.

"Hi!" said Beth brightly as soon as Hermione came into the room.

"Hello," said Hermione distractedly. "So... This is a surprise. I wasn't expecting you."

Anne got up quietly and went out of the room.

"That was the point, Hermione," said Beth, laughing a bit. "I'm here to _surprise_ you. We haven't seen each other in a while and I thought that it would cheer you up if I..."

"Why would I need cheering up?" spat Hermione coldly.

"Well..." said Beth, taken aback at Hermione's defensive tone. "I bet you've been bored... And I thought I could take you out to lunch."

"I'm not bored at all," said Hermione defensively. "I've gone out plenty of times since I came back. And I have been terribly busy trying to sort out my things, which I have all piled up in boxes all over the house. I don't even know what all those boxes have."

"I'm just trying to help, Hermione," said Beth.

"I appreciate it, but I don't need any help, Beth," insisted Hermione.

Beth looked affronted.

"Very well," she said, picking up her purse and standing up. "I won't bother you anymore. And I just realized I have something very important to do. I'll see you around, Hermione."

With that Beth walked out of the sitting room. A few seconds later, Hermione heard the front door slam shut.

Not even Hermione knew what had come over her a few minutes earlier. She felt her nose prickle and her eyes starting to fill with tears. A wave of sadness rushed through her. She got her wish; she wanted to be left alone and now she really _was_ alone. And she wasn't sure she liked it.

---

That night Michael Sandford did something unprecedented.

He came home early. _With flowers._

"Hello, Anne," he said as he walked into the kitchen.

Anne, who had been fixing dinner, stood speechless in front of Michael, a bowl in one hand and her wand in the other.

"I didn't think you would make it in time for dinner," was all Anne could say.

"Yes, well, that makes two of us," said Michael, putting down his briefcase and placing the white roses he was holding on top of the table.

"Anne," he began nervously, "can you tell me what has been really going on around here?"

"Excuse me?" said Anne.

"_Hermione_, Anne," said Michael. "How has _Hermione_ been lately?"

"She has been fine," Anne lied quickly.

"Come on," said Michael. "I really need to know the truth."

Anne blushed. She then proceeded to tell Michael _exactly_ what had been going on.

---

Michael slowly opened the door to the room he was supposed to be sharing with his wife. He saw Hermione sleeping peacefully inside.

As he walked into the room he started feeling nervous.

"Hermione?" he whispered softly, nudging her.

Hermione woke up with a start. When she saw Michael standing next to her, her face tightened.

"What are you doing here?" she snarled, noticing the white roses he was carrying.

"I live here, Hermione," said Michael patiently.

"The way you've been acting lately," said Hermione, shifting on the bed to turn her back to Michael, "you would never be able to tell."

"Can't we have dinner?" asked Michael.

"I'm not hungry," Hermione replied. "What do you want?"

"You know what I want," said Michael. "I want to talk."

"We have _nothing_ to talk about," hissed Hermione.

"Oh yes, we do," said Michael, "and we could start by discussing this... this... What do I call it? This _reckless_ attitude of yours."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Hermione, sitting up in her bed and crossing her arms. "It's not like I'm harming anyone by keeping my thoughts to myself."

"Hermione, don't you see? You are harming yourself! You are harming our _child_! You think I don't care, but I _do_ care!"

"That's a bit hard to believe! It's not like you're ever here, Michael! Where have you been all this time?"

"I've been working, Hermione," said Michael patiently. "And don't try to–"

"Until midnight, _every_ night?" said Hermione in a very low voice, her lower lip starting to tremble.

"Hermione," said Michael slowly. "I don't know what you have been–"

"I've noticed," said Hermione, tears swimming in her eyes. "I've noticed how every night you arrive so late... And everybody has–"

"Hermione, _please_ don't listen to what anyone says," pleaded Michael, taking Hermione's hand and squeezing it. "I swear, nothing's going on."

"You have to promise, Michael," whispered Hermione sadly, as tears streaked down her cheeks. "If you don't do it for me... At least think of the baby."

"Don't talk like that," said Michael, looking down.

"I'll tell you what's really been bothering me," said Hermione angrily, wiping away the tears. "That's what you want, isn't it? That's what you came for?"

Michael remained quiet.

"The truth is, Michael," Hermione continued, "I'm afraid of you. I don't know what to do when I'm around you anymore. After what happened in Rome... You go from being perfectly normal to completely mad in about two seconds. I never thought you were like that. A part of me is thinking, 'what did I get myself into?'"

Michael was surprised to hear Hermione talking so openly about her feelings when she had always been so reserved with him.

"I know..." he said cautiously, "_I know_ that what happened in Rome should have never happened. I lost control and... I'm sorry, Hermione. I swear... I _promise_ it will never happen again."

Hermione shielded her face with her hands as a sob escaped her lips.

Michael wrapped his arms around Hermione as her body shook with sobs. Ironically, it was in times like these that Hermione felt lucky to have Michael. Because even though he had been one of the factors that lead to Hermione's current state of mind, he was always there in the end to repent, to comfort her, to make her feel safe, and to whisper words of solace. Hermione hugged him tight, letting go of inhibitions, yet afraid to let go of him. Michael caressed her hair, stroked her back, and made her feel better.

As they pulled away, Michael took Hermione's face in his hands and wiped away the tears.

"Don't cry," he said softly. "Please don't cry."

Hermione nodded.

"Can we start over?" asked Michael.

"That's all I want."

---

"Do you know where's my toothbrush?" asked Michael, as he came out of the bathroom.

"I haven't seen it since we got back," said Hermione, who was lying on the bed, looking at the wall in silence.

"Last time I saw it... Never mind," mumbled Michael. "Can I use yours?"

"That's disgusting."

"Nothing a good Scourgifying charm can't solve," he said.

"Fine," she replied.

After brushing his teeth, Michael put on a sweatshirt and his boxers and climbed into bed.

"Are you alright?" he asked Hermione.

"I'm fine," she said, smiling softly. "Just tired."

"Hermione," said Michael seriously, "I talked to Beth. She came to see me this afternoon."

"Of course she did. How could I expect anything less of your sister? What did she tell you?" asked Hermione, concentrating intently in her hands.

"She told me what you have been up to lately," he said. "How you sleep all day... How you barely eat. Is it me? Or is there something else?"

This time, Hermione remained quiet.

"You must go out, Hermione," Michael continued. "You have to get fresh air. Occupy your mind. You'll go crazy doing nothing here all day. Is there something else? How are things with Harry and Ginny? Did anything happen when you went to see them and the babies?"

It always annoyed Hermione how Michael had this amazing ability to guess what was bothering her. Sometimes she wondered if she was transparent, just like when she visited Rosmerta.

"Everything's fine," said Hermione quietly, not quite meeting Michael's eye.

"But..." said Michael, prompting Hermione to continue.

"They have the triplets to worry about now."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" asked Michael, obviously confused.

"It means..." Hermione hesitated for a moment, trying to think quickly of something to say. "It means that I can't go to my friends anymore because now they have to worry about things more important than a friend who just has a lot of time in her hands."

"I wouldn't be going crazy if you hadn't made me quit my job," she added quietly.

"Hermione!" exclaimed Michael. "We _both_ agreed to that. _We_ decided it would be for the best. You're talking as if I put my wand to your head and told you I would _Crucio_ your bits off if you didn't quit!"

"Whatever," she said. "The thing is I don't know what to do to keep my mind occupied anymore."

"Why don't you do something with Beth?" suggested Michael. "You could spend the day over at her house and I could pick you up in the evening."

"I don't want to impose," said Hermione, blushing as she remembered how she had treated Beth that afternoon.

"Come on, Hermione." Michael laughed. "This is Beth we're talking about."

"To be honest, I don't think she wants to see me," said Hermione. "You have no idea of how I treated her."

"Yes, I do," said Michael. "She told me everything. And she's not angry at you. She's... she's angry with _me_. And I definitely don't blame her. I... I don't like seeing you like this."

Hermione remained quiet.

"What else is on your mind?"

"That's all," she lied, hoping Michael would drop the subject before she lost control again and spilled the truth about what was tormenting her.

Michael smiled as Hermione placed her hands on her growing stomach, stroking it gently.

"Hermione," said Michael, placing his hand over hers, "I _love_ you. I hate the fact that I've made you so unhappy—"

"Really, Michael—"

"Listen to me," said Michael, not allowing Hermione to interrupt him. "I _know_ everything is my fault, and I am _so_ _sorry_."

"I know you're sorry," said Hermione.

There was an awkward silence, until Michael spoke again.

"Enough about this," he said. "I want to know how you have been feeling. Physically, I mean, of course."

"I've been alright," said Hermione slowly.

"Everything in order? What does the doctor say?"

"Um, he said that everything's going splendid."

"When was the last time you saw him?" asked Michael nonchalantly.

"A bit before the wedding..." mumbled Hermione.

"_What?_ I thought Beth was making it up to preoccupy me!" exclaimed Michael, as he sat up looking at Hermione in outrage. "What on earth have you been waiting for?"

"Michael, I tried to set up an appointment," Hermione quickly lied, "but his schedule was full."

"Bollocks!"

"Michael!"

"Tomorrow I'm telling Rebecca to set up an emergency appointment. Believe me, she'll get it like _that_," said Michael, snapping his fingers.

---

"Good morning," said Hermione, smiling as she entered the kitchen.

"Well, you're up early!" exclaimed Anne.

"Yes, well, I thought I would take advantage of this beautiful day," said Hermione, pouring pumpkin juice into a glass.

"Good," said Anne slowly, getting up to pour herself more coffee. Just then, Michael entered the kitchen and surprised Hermione from behind as he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a peck on the cheek.

_Great, so he comes home with flowers and a few days later __they're sleeping together again,_ Anne thought indignantly, taking a sip of her coffee as she looked away.

"I'll come home early tonight," said Michael, almost whispering.

"Great," said Hermione. "I need to talk to you before you go."

"Sure," said Michael, showing a mischievous smile. "Want to jump in the shower with me?"

Anne pretended she didn't hear anything as she walked out the door.

"You'll be late," said Hermione, laughing. She looked out the window and saw Anne beginning to take care of the garden. "Actually, I wanted to talk about Anne."

"What about her?" asked Michael, as he sat down at the table and opened the _Prophet_.

"I really want her to get a good job."

"Are you serious?" asked Michael.

"Michael, she wants to be a writer. Do you really think she should be cleaning our house? She has her whole life ahead of her! She can do so much better than this!"

Michael thought about this for a moment.

"I think you're right," he finally said. "But what do you have in mind?"

"Oh, it's brilliant," said Hermione, smiling.

---

"Oh, Ginny..."

"Stop it, Harry."

"What do you want me to say?" Harry snapped, looking away from the thermometer levitating in front of him. "I'm so proud of you for not taking care of yourself?"

"I'm _alright_," said Ginny stubbornly.

"You have a fever!"

"Don't yell at me!"

"I'm not yelling!" yelled Harry.

Ginny laughed. Harry looked at her and started laughing as well.

"Oh gosh... It hurts to laugh," said Ginny, suddenly flinching.

"Are you alright?" asked Harry concernedly.

"I'm fine," said Ginny.

"I had to call in sick today," said Harry. "Again."

Ginny's face turned red.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"Ginny, I wouldn't have to do this if your mum were helping you," said Harry.

"I know," said Ginny, "but Harry... You know how she can get. I would go mad."

"You're already going mad," said Harry. "One month old triplets are too much for you to deal with alone. Molly would be more than thrilled to help out."

Ginny remained silent.

"Do you want me to call Mum?" she asked reluctantly.

"You don't–" Harry started to say, when they heard someone was knocking on the front door.

"I'll be right back," he said.

However, he wasn't right back. After ten minutes, Ginny started to wonder who was downstairs with Harry, and just as she was about to get up from the bed, the door opened.

"It was bloody time!" she said. But she was shocked to find that the person standing at the door wasn't Harry. It was Claudia.

"Hello," said Claudia shyly.

"Well... Hi," stammered Ginny.

"I'm so sorry to disturb," said Claudia, still standing awkwardly by the door. "Harry said I could come up. He went to change Becky's nappy, I think."

"Sure," said Ginny. "What are you doing here?"

"Ron told me you were sick," said Claudia, blushing, "and I... I was having lunch at The Leaky Cauldron and I thought that maybe you could use a bit of pea soup."

"That's nice of you," said Ginny.

"I'm so sorry I didn't call earlier," said Claudia, looking uncomfortable. "Gosh, I just barged in here, didn't I?"

"Oh, please," laughed Ginny softly. "Don't worry about it. How are things at the Ministry? Is the Auror Department everything you hoped for?"

"Oh," said Claudia, "everything's alright. We've been dealing mostly with paperwork, because apparently the head of the department doesn't trust us rookies quite yet. Ron's been dying to go on a raid, though. He's been trying to get me to fill in his paperwork, but I've got enough as it is!"

"He's always been like that," said Ginny, laughing. "Back at Hogwarts he was always pestering Hermione to help him with his homework."

"What did she do?" asked Claudia.

"Always helped," said Ginny, her voice almost inaudible.

"You know," said Claudia, "Ronnie and I went shopping to Diagon Alley the other day, and we saw her. I wanted to say 'hello' but she seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, and we couldn't catch up with her."

"She was probably late for an appointment," said Ginny quietly.

Harry tried to put Becky asleep as fast as he could. He really didn't think that leaving Ginny alone with Claudia for a long time would yield good results. But to his utter surprise, Claudia and Ginny were talking animatedly when he came into the room. He actually felt awkward, standing in silence as the two girls chatted away.

"Oh dear," said Claudia, looking at her watch. "I should get going. It was really nice talking to you, Ginny. We should do this again."

"Thank you so much for coming," said Ginny.

"Thank _you_ for letting me in," replied Claudia, laughing.

"I'll walk you to the door," offered Harry.

After Claudia left, Harry practically ran up the stairs.

"Ginny, are you feeling okay?" he asked as soon as he walked into the bedroom.

"Yes," she asked, somewhat alarmed as she looked at the panting Harry in front of her. "Are _you_?"

"Do you realize that you spent forty five minutes talking to someone you hated an hour ago?" said Harry.

"I've never hated her!" exclaimed Ginny defensively.

"Ginny, two weeks ago you wanted me to kick her out of the house."

"I was so wrong about her, Harry," said Ginny. "She's such a nice girl."

"I know," said Harry. "I hesitated a bit before sending her up, but I didn't have a choice because I had to take care of Becky."

"I'm happy she came. She's so... down to earth, you know?" said Ginny.

Harry laid down in bed next to Ginny. They were both silent for a few minutes until Ginny talked again.

"I really like her, Harry," she said gently, biting her lip.

"I really like her, too," said Harry dolefully. "I really like her, too."

---

Hermione was sitting on the veranda, enjoying the light breeze as she read and responded the letters that had been piling up for weeks. She had received letters from students, past classmates, professors... Molly and Ginny had written quite a few letters as well. All of them asking how she was, how was she feeling, did she know the sex of the baby yet, or how was Michael preparing for fatherhood, a question that had made Hermione snort.

She had thought things would be so different once they got married. They hadn't. The situation had only gotten worse. She felt sad almost all of the time, and now she spent a lot of time thinking about the past: what would've happened if her parents hadn't died, if she had never met Michael, or if she had never...

However, that didn't matter anymore. She couldn't turn back time.

Talking with Michael opened her eyes. Putting behind them what had happened in Rome and deciding to start fresh definitely helped her be a bit more optimistic about the future. She wouldn't think about Ron and Claudia and that awful Sunday in Harry's house anymore. That had just been sucking the life out of her like a Dementor constantly hanging over her. From now on she would think about herself, Michael and the baby. Instead of dwelling in the past and forgetting to live her life, she decided to prepare, prepare, prepare. The baby would be arriving in just four months, and to think that she hadn't even thought about names yet... It made Hermione cringe.

"Hermione," said Anne, walking into the veranda, "do you need anything?"

"No," said Hermione softly, "I'm just thinking."

"I see you're getting up to date on your mail," said Anne.

"Yes," said Hermione. "I'll be getting up to date in a lot of things from now on."

"I hope you're feeling better," said Anne.

"I am," said Hermione. "Apparently, someone let it slip that I was getting up to no good."

Anne's face turned beet red.

"I am so sorry," she apologized.

"Don't be," said Hermione. "On the contrary, thank you for doing something about it."

Anne smiled shyly.

"What should I do with the _Prophet_s that have been piling up?" she asked.

"Just throw them out," said Hermione. "I'm not reading that rubbish anymore."

Anne nodded.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes. Um, I just have to write a letter and I'll be right in," said Hermione.

Anne went back inside.

Hermione wrote the letter, grabbed her purse, and headed for the High Street, hoping the post office was still open.

"Why, hello Hermione!" exclaimed Madam Rosmerta as Hermione passed by the Three Broomsticks.

"Hello" said Hermione.

"We haven't seen you in a while!" said Rosmerta, peering intently at Hermione. "You look... You look lovely, dear."

"Thank you," said Hermione, smiling softly. Instinctively, her right hand moved to her stomach. Rosmerta stared at her with a curious expression on her face.

"I better get going," said Hermione. "It was nice seeing you."

After sending the letter with an Express Owl, Hermione headed back home.

"Where have you been?" asked Anne, as soon as Hermione came through the door.

"I went to send my letter," said Hermione. "Why?"

"You said that you would come in as soon as you finished writing the letter!" exclaimed Anne. "You never said you were going to send it today! I was worried!"

"I'm sorry!" said Hermione. "I didn't think you would notice."

"Oh, it's fine," said Anne, walking back to the kitchen. Hermione followed her.

"I guess I got worried because you haven't gone out of the house in a bit more than two weeks and suddenly you were not here anymore..."

"I know," said Hermione, sitting down at the table. "So... What are you doing?"

"I have been working a bit on my story," said Anne. "I finished what needed to be done today, but it's not quite time to start working on dinner."

"You know, you can go whenever you want," said Hermione.

"But I have to cook dinner."

"I'll take care of dinner," said Hermione. "I just want to have quiet evening with Michael."

"Are you sure you can handle dinner all by yourself?" asked Anne.

"I'm positive," said Hermione.

"Well, I guess I should leave," said Anne getting up and gathering her things. "Take care of yourself."

"I will," replied Hermione.

Hermione started taking the ingredients for the meal out. In a matter of minutes, the whole kitchen was bustling with enchanted knives chopping vegetables all over the place.

"Hey," said Michael, coming into the kitchen. His hands were full: he was carrying his briefcase with one hand and a red shopping bag with the other. "What are you working on here?"

"Hi," said Hermione, giving Michael a kiss. "I'm cooking dinner."

"What are you making?" asked Michael. "Smells good."

"Ratatouille," said Hermione.

"You know, one day we'll go to Provence and you will get to taste the most wonderful Ratatouille in the world," said Michael.

"I'll hold you to that promise," said Hermione smiling. "What's in the bag?"

"Oh, just wait," said Michael taking out a box out of the bag. He opened the box and took out a small device that resembled a mobile phone.

"Isn't it brilliant?" said Michael, grinning.

"Okay, this may sound stupid, but what exactly is it?" asked Hermione, realizing how poor her knowledge in Muggle technology was now that her parents were gone. The last time she had used a computer had been three years ago, at her parents' office.

"This is a Blackberry! It's a mobile phone, but it also has Internet and you can use it to send e-mail and everything!" explained Michael excitedly. "Liam got one last week and he reckons it's addictive."

"It's nice," said Hermione tentatively.

"And I got you one too," said Michael. "That way you can call me whenever you need me. If you have a problem or if you're not feeling alright."

"You know, Michael," said Hermione, eyeing the device with some apprehension, "sometimes I think you rely too much on Muggle things."

"Well, I just happen to think Muggles are brilliant."

"Yes well, so does Arthur Weasley," said Hermione laughing. "So I guess it can't be that bad."

---

The evening had been relaxing; dinner had been served, and now Hermione and Michael were sitting in front of the fireplace; Michael was reading the _Evening Prophet_ and Hermione was reading a bit from _Hogwarts: A History_.

"You know," said Michael, lowering his paper, "that is a frighteningly big book."

"It's very interesting," said Hermione.

"Oh, I'm sure it is," assumed Michael. "By the way, remember that the doctor's appointment is tomorrow afternoon at two."

Hermione nodded. She lifted her head and stared at Michael for a while. When she looked at her husband, she felt sad. She felt... disappointed. Michael wasn't a bad person. She should be the happiest woman in the world: a baby on the way, a husband that has realized his mistakes and had vowed to mend them, loving friends... Plus, she had everything she needed. Everything she _wanted_. Shoes, coats, purses, dresses... Yet those things could not make up for the emptiness inside her.

Hermione loved Michael. She honestly did. And yet she always feared that she didn't love him the way she had to. That she didn't love him enough. _She wasn't __**in love**____with him_ Love like the one Hermione desperately wanted to feel for her husband—yet couldn't possibly imagine feeling for him—only appeared once in a lifetime. And Ron Weasley had already stolen her heart. Now it was too late.

A few minutes of silence went by as Hermione considered these thoughts, until Michael exclaimed "Yes!" making her jump.

"For Merlin's sake!" she said, eyes wide. "Don't do that!"

"I'm sorry!" said Michael, lowering his paper to reveal he was grinning. "It's just that the Puddlemere United won today's game. They _massacred_ the Chudley Cannons, 250-0... Well, it was to be expected, now that I think about it. Those Cannons are absolute rubbish."

Hermione swallowed awkwardly, tensing up.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?" asked Michael. "You're clenching your fists, you know."

"I should probably go to bed," said Hermione, getting up. "We have a big day tomorrow."

"But I wanted to have some fun!" said Michael.

"I'm sorry, but I'm tired and I'm not in the mood," said Hermione, thinking that she was going to wear out that phrase soon.

---

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Sandford," said the young woman sitting at the desk in front of Michael's office.

Hermione was in the Sandford Corporation Building, ready for her doctor's appointment with Michael. He told her they would meet up here and then drive across town to Kensington.

"Hello," she said, trying not to cringe at the words "Mrs. Sandford."

"I'll tell Mr. Sandford you've arrived."

"Isn't he in his office?" asked Hermione.

"He's downstairs, in a meeting with his father."

Just then, a tall, attractive blonde with long legs that resembled toothpicks, came out of Liam's office, laughing.

Patricia Walters.

Liam, who came out of his office right after Patricia, quickly noticed Hermione and went to greet her.

"How are you?" he asked, giving Hermione a hug.

"Terrific," Hermione said curtly, looking at Patricia, who had just materialized next to Liam.

"Hello," said Patricia.

"Oh, Hermione," said Liam, "you know Patricia, right? She's our new head of Legal and Management Controls."

Hermione didn't know what to say.

"That's... Good for you."

"Oh, it most definitely is!" said Patricia, smiling pleasantly. "I'm here to stay. Oh, before I forget, I hear congratulations are in order!"

"Thank you," said Hermione quietly, feeling patronized. Why did this woman have to be so condescending?

"Hello, darling," said Michael, walking towards Hermione and giving her a peck on the cheek. "Ready to go?"

"Yes," said Hermione quickly.

"Where are you going?" asked Patricia.

Just when Hermione was about to lash out with a biting remark, Michael spoke.

"Doctor's appointment," he said, patting Hermione's stomach.

"That's _adooorable_" said Patricia, giving Hermione a "Better-You-Than-Me" look.

"Hey, Michael," said John, who was walking out of the lifts, "is the _smashing_ Aston Martin that's parked in front of the building yours?"

"Actually," said Liam, grinning, as he walked back towards his office, "it's mine. And there is no way I'm letting you drive it!"

"I have to make a quick phone call," Michael told Hermione as he read a message on his Blackberry. "I'll be right back."

"It was nice seeing you, Hermione," Liam said, his voice so high he was almost shouting.

"You too," replied Hermione.

Patricia simply walked away.

"Rebecca, get me Meg," she demanded, talking to Michael's secretary.

"Right away," said Rebecca, looking at Patricia with antipathy.

"Rebecca?" asked Hermione, suddenly realizing something. "We've talked before, haven't we?"

"Just once, over the phone... Hang on. Yes, Hello, I'm calling for Megan Wic- Yes, I'll hold," said Rebecca, shifting her attention from Hermione to the person on the phone. "Thank you. Ms. Walters, I have her on line two."

"I'm sorry about that," she told Hermione.

"Oh, don't be," said Hermione. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," said Rebecca.

"Rebecca, if you don't mind me asking..." Hermione hesitated slightly. "Isn't this supposed to be Susan's desk?"

Rebecca shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"Well, Mrs. Sandford, Susan doesn't work here anymore. She quit. Now I'm secretary for Mr. Parke, Ms. Walters, _and_ Mr. Sandford."

"When did this happen?" asked Hermione, perplexed. "Michael never said anything."

Rebecca lowered her gaze.

"It... Well, it happened a couple of months ago, while you were on your honeymoon. Right about the time Ms. Walters started working here, actually. They... Well, she and Susan didn't have the greatest of relationships."

"So Susan quit her job so she would never have to look at Patricia again?" asked Hermione.

"I really don't know," said Rebecca. "But... Well, everyone talks."

"And what are they saying?"

"Well, we all know what Susan's like," said Rebecca, leaning towards Hermione conspiratorially. "She's proud and selfish... sometimes downright shameless. It's not likely that she decided to throw in the towel without putting on a fight. When Patricia arrived, it was obvious that those two were like oil and water. And then suddenly, Susan handed in her resignation and left. We all found that a bit suspicious. Everyone's saying that Patricia made Susan quit, and yet no one knows how."

"Okay, I'm all set," said Michael, walking out of his office.

"Thanks, Rebecca," said Hermione, warily.

"Anytime," replied the secretary, looking as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

"Ready?" asked Michael.

"Yes," said Hermione. "I'm ready."


	11. What Lies Ahead: Part Two

**Chapter Ten**

**What Lies Ahead**

**(Part Two)**

"If you could just lay down, Ms. Granger," said Mr. Martin's assistant. "The doctor will be here in a couple of minutes."

"Thank you," said Michael.

They were at Mr. Martin's office, and to say that Hermione was nervous was an understatement. Her palms were sweating, she couldn't stop fidgeting, and she found it very hard to breathe.

"Calm down," said Michael, holding her hand. "Everything will be fine. You'll see."

"What if it's not fine?" asked Hermione. "What if something went wrong because I didn't come sooner? What if there's anything wrong? It will all be my fault."

"Stop talking like that," said Michael. "And if something is wrong, which I'm sure will _not_ be the case, it will be my fault too."

"Good afternoon," said Mr. Martin, coming into the room. "Hello, Hermione."

"Hi, Ryan," she replied, shaking his hand. "I don't think you've met my husband..."

"I think we met briefly a few years ago, when I first saw Beth," said Ryan. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Sandford."

"Please, call me Michael."

"Will do," said Ryan. "Are you ready to take a look at your baby?"

Hermione swallowed nervously.

"Yes, we are," said Michael. Hermione couldn't help but notice that Michael's voice seemed to be shaking.

"Brilliant," said Ryan. "I'll just lift your blouse a bit... and squeeze some gel on your stomach... and we're all set to go."

Hermione peered nervously at the computer in front of Ryan.

"Is this your first ultrasound?" he asked.

Hermione nodded.

"Oh well, it's nothing really," said Ryan, smiling. "Just relax. It's a simple procedure and we should be done quickly."

Ryan placed a probe on Hermione's stomach, pressed one of the computer's buttons, and a fuzzy black and white image appeared on the screen.

"Alright," said Ryan, peering intently at the screen as he guided the probe over Hermione's stomach. "Let's see... Here we are."

Hermione squinted her eyes, trying to see the baby, but to no avail.

"Here's the baby's head," said Ryan, outlining the fuzzy image in the computer screen with his finger. "And here we have an arm..."

As her doctor explained the images they were looking at, Hermione was staring at the screen transfixed. This was the most wonderful thing she had ever seen. It felt like a true wake-up call. There was a little person growing inside of her... It was Hermione who would be responsible to nurture it. Moreover, it was Hermione who would be responsible for raising this child. No more neglecting the baby. No more ignoring what would happen in a matter of months. She felt ecstatic, yet she felt ashamed of her behaviour over the last couple of weeks. How had she ignored this child for so long? This _piece_ of her... A tear escaped the corner of her eye and before she could wipe it off, Michael squeezed her hand and pressed his lips gently to her cheek.

"I love you," he whispered to her ear.

"Oh, wait..." came Ryan's voice, interrupting the moment. "Do you want to know the sex of the baby?"

Hermione bit her lower lip and glanced at Michael.

"Whatever you say," he said, smiling tenderly at her.

"I want to wait," she said, before she could give the matter more thought. "I want it to be a surprise."

"Fair enough," said Ryan, smiling. "I'll be looking forward to seeing what the tabloids have to say about this."

--

Michael and Hermione came out of Ryan's office with a grin on their faces. The baby was in perfect condition, and Hermione was healthy as well. The doctor reprimanded her, however, when he noticed how much time Hermione had been putting off the appointment. He also showed concern when he took her blood pressure, which was higher than normal. Still, Michael could not help himself before giving Hermione a tight squeeze and a kiss as soon as they went out into the street. He practically lifted her off her feet, making Hermione giggle.

"What do you say if I call Rebecca and ask her to cancel all my stuff?"

"I think it is a wonderful idea," said Hermione, pleased that her work-centred husband was actually suggesting putting of work to finally focus on her.

--

"Harry, I'm going to get the paper," said Ginny, nudging her husband to wake him up before she left.

"Mhm," moaned Harry into his pillow.

"Harry, wake up! I can't leave the babies unattended!" exclaimed Ginny, frustrated.

"Where are you going?" asked Harry sleepily. "What time is it?"

"I already told you, the paper didn't arrive so I'm going to Diagon Alley to get it," said Ginny.

"Fine," said Harry, sitting up. "I'm up."

"Finally," said Ginny, closing her eyes and Apparating into The Leaky Cauldron, which was empty with the exception of a couple of guests that were eating breakfast and Tom.

"Good morning," said Tom, who was cleaning the bar.

"Hello," replied Ginny politely, before walking out the door. She touched the right bricks with her wand and the wall standing between her and the alley disappeared. She hurried over to the newsstand and was greeted by the man behind the small counter.

"Good morning," she said. "May I have a _Prophet_?"

"Sure thing," said the man.

Ginny handed the money over and grabbed the paper.

_Please, let there be nothing today_, she thought. _Let them forget she exists..._

She was eager to see if the _Prophet_ had continued with their "Sandford-Watch." They had been dying for a new story for weeks, but given Hermione's sudden disappearance from the public eye, the "journalists" at the _Daily Prophet_ had found themselves recycling old Hermione-and-Michael stories.

_As long as they don't get anything new_, Ginny thought, _everything will be fine_.

However, this morning Ginny's heart dropped as she saw the _huge_ headline.

_SHE'S PREGNANT!_

_An addition to the Sandford family is on the way; Hermione is back... with a bump!_

With a sinking feeling, Ginny folded the paper under her arm and apparated back home.

She made her way back to her room, finding Harry sitting on the bed with the three babies lying down in front of him as he cooed to them and rubbed their tummies, making them smile and giggle. As he noticed his wife entering the room, he raised his head, a silly smile on his face. However, the smile disappeared when he saw her face.

"What happened?" he asked.

She simply handed him the _Prophet_.

"What the..." he said, staring in shock at the two pictures beneath the headline. One was of Hermione and Michael hugging on some sidewalk in London; her feet were barely touching the floor. The other was a close up of Hermione's growing stomach. This made obvious that—

"The Kneazle's out of the bag, Harry."

--

Michael's Blackberry rang early that morning.

"Oh God," said Hermione, shifting her position on the bed. "Who calls at this hour?"

"No one," said Michael, sitting up. "_That_ is what worries me."

He got up from the bed and grabbed the Blackberry, which was on a small table next to the window.

"Hello?" he answered. "Beth, it's almost _bloody_ 8 a.m. on a Saturday morning. Don't you sleep? No, I haven't seen it... Why? _Fuck_... Is it a lot?"

"What?" mouthed Hermione, who was now sitting, staring sleepily at her husband with her head leaning against the headboard.

Michael raised his hand to signal Hermione to be quiet, as he went out of the room. Moments later, he was back with the _Prophet_ in hand.

"No, Beth," said Michael. "I have to tell her... No, it won't! Merlin... Look, I'll take a look at it and I'll call you back."

Hermione felt her heart sink.

"It was going to happen sooner or later, I guess," she said.

"Yeah, well, I'd rather it were later," said Michael, handing the newspaper to Hermione.

"This is... It's more than what I expected," she said.

_Where did all my privacy go?_ she thought. _Is this what Harry felt? Like he was living in a fishbowl?_

"I'm sorry about all of this," said Michael, sitting down.

"It's not like you could've done anything," said Hermione. "As long as you keep the house Unplottable..."

"We'll be fine," finished Michael.

"Hiding was working well for me," said Hermione.

"You can't live your life hiding," said Michael wisely.

"At least I can try," Hermione retorted.

--

The weekend flew by, and before Hermione knew it, it was Monday.

"Hermione! The mail's here!" yelled Anne from the kitchen.

"I'll be right there!" Hermione responded from the study, as she sealed the last of her boxes; the last open bit of her past.

She looked around the room, all clean and tidy after Anne helped her clear the mess. This was the moment where she was officially closing a door in her life and going on to the next phase: motherhood.

As she closed the door of the study, she felt melancholic. Her life had been going so well. Everything she had in those boxes was full of happy memories. She had everything she wanted. She felt loved. She felt happy. She was essentially problem-free. Then she left Ron standing alone in the cold that night in Charing Cross Road. Then he went away. Then her parents died. And then she didn't know what to do anymore.

"Merlin... I feel tired," said Hermione, as she entered the kitchen. "Though I think I'll go to visit Ginny today."

"She'll be very happy to see you."

"I hope so," said Hermione. "Anything for me?"

"Just one letter," said Anne dismissively.

_Yes!_ Hermione thought immediately, as she saw whom the letter was from. She ripped the envelope open and took out the elegant piece of parchment addressed to her. She quickly scanned the letter and smiled broadly.

"Anne," she said, "I need to talk to you."

"What about?" asked Anne.

"I don't know if you are aware of the fact that I have a very good friend who's a senior book editor in Little Red Books. You know... That publisher in Diagon Alley?"

Anne nodded.

"Well... I wrote her a letter and I told her about you."

"What?" Anne turned red in embarrassment.

"I told her a very close friend of mine was a terrific writer," continued Hermione, "and I told her she should take a look at your story."

"But it's not even finished!" exclaimed Anne.

"I know," said Hermione. "And I don't think it matters. I told her you weren't finished, and yet she wrote back with something very interesting in mind for you."

Anne stared at Hermione, her heart pounding against her chest.

"She has an entry level job at the company available. She's offering it to you," said Hermione, who was beaming at this point.

"But... What about the book?" asked Anne. "I was hoping to finish it."

"The job will allow you enough time to finish the book," said Hermione. "Once you finish it, my friend will personally read it and she will help you edit it."

"That's... I mean... How did you... I honestly—"

"You're welcome," laughed Hermione.

"I can't believe you did this for me," said Anne, tears welling up in her eyes. "Why?"

"Because I like you, Anne," said Hermione simply. "And to see you cleaning my house seems unfair and... _stupid_. You have potential."

"But who's going to take care of the house now?" asked Anne.

"I will!" exclaimed Hermione. "I can handle it."

"Hermione... I don't know how to thank you for this."

"Write a brilliant book," replied Hermione. "I'll be the first to buy it."

Anne smiled.

"My friend's name is Lavender Brown. She wants to meet you next week."

"How did you get her to do this?" asked Anne.

"Let's say I did a little something for her and... she owes me a favour," said Hermione, smirking.

--

Ginny had just put down the triplets for their nap when someone knocked on the door.

_I want a bed,_ she thought.

When she opened the door, she could not have been more surprised.

Hermione was standing in front of her.

"Oh my God!" she shrieked, as she wrapped her arms around her friend.

Hermione laughed as she returned the hug.

"I've missed you so much!" exclaimed Ginny.

"I've missed you too!" replied Hermione.

"Come in!"

"How's everyone?" asked Hermione, walking behind Ginny into the sitting room.

"Everyone's great," said Ginny, sitting down. "I was sick a while ago, but I've been better. Harry lost a few days of work to take care of me."

"I figured Molly would be here helping you," said Hermione.

"Oh, well, I've been taking care of the triplets alone," said Ginny, colouring slightly.

"Everything okay with your mother, Ginny?" asked Hermione suspiciously.

"Hermione, you know how she is," said Ginny. "I manage fine on my own."

"No, you don't!" exclaimed Hermione. "I don't need Harry to tell me you got sick because of fatigue. You look exhausted."

"You two are just the same," said Ginny. "Want some tea? I can prepare some if you like."

"No, let's just talk," said Hermione.

"Good," said Ginny, laughing. "You have no idea of how much we've missed you. You were gone for weeks! And then Saturday..."

Ginny stopped talking.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"No," Hermione corrected her. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I left you all in the dark and disappeared. You had to find out what I was up to by reading the paper."

Ginny remained silent.

"How's Ron?" asked Hermione.

Ginny looked at her as if she had gone mad.

"He's fine..." she said tentatively. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering," replied Hermione.

"You know..." said Ginny, biting her lower lip, "Claudia was here the other day."

"Oh... So they visit frequently?"

"Not _they_," said Ginny, blushing. "Claudia came alone. She heard I was sick so she brought soup. Hermione... You have no idea of how nice that girl is."

Hermione looked at Ginny wistfully.

"I'm glad he found someone, Ginny," she said. "Now we can both move on. They look nice as a couple."

"So you did see them," said Ginny in realization.

"What?"

"That day in Diagon Alley," Ginny said, peering at Hermione as though through a new light. "You were running away."

"That's not what I... No I meant... The other day when they visited... But how... Who told you that?" asked Hermione, suddenly jittery.

"Claudia told me she saw you but you were hurrying in the other direction, and before she and Ron could say hello, you were gone."

Hermione blushed crimson.

Before any of them could start saying anything, one of the babies started crying upstairs.

"Oh, God, no!" exclaimed Ginny, almost bursting into tears. "I just put them to sleep!"

"Okay, just calm down," said Hermione, surprised to see Ginny acting like this. "I'll go up and take care of them."

"You have to go up immediately, before the other two start screaming their lungs out as well!" said Ginny, clutching her head.

"I'll go!" said Hermione.

Hermione went up the stairs quickly. She went into the triplets' room and picked up Ron, whose face was turning red, wet with tears. She calmed him down and put him back to sleep. After making sure the other two babies were alright, she went back downstairs, to find Ginny sleeping on the sofa.

She smiled inwardly, and headed to the kitchen, which was a disaster zone. It seemed that no one had done the dishes in several days. She went back to the sitting room and took her wand out of her purse. With a flick, the dishes were stacked next to the sink, clearing the counters and the table. With another flick, all the milk cartons, old newspapers, and take-out containers vanished, and sponges started cleaning the filthy countertops. Hermione opened the refrigerator, and she was shocked to find it empty, except for several bottles of milk.

"This isn't right," she said. She picked up her Blackberry and dialled the number for Harrods. She placed an order for food items and she was told to expect it in a week.

"Oh," she said. "I'm in a bit of a pickle. I have to cook dinner for tonight."

"Ma'am," said the man on the phone, "I can't do anything for you. May I have a name?"

"Yes, you may. This is Hermione Granger. I mean, Sandford. Oh, whatever."

"Oh... Could I place you on hold for a minute, Miss Granger?"

"Sure," said Hermione, smiling to herself.

About a minute after that, the man on the phone was assuring Hermione that she should be receiving her groceries in less than an hour.

Before long, she was cooking dinner, and Ginny was still sleeping. The front door opened, so Hermione walked out into the sitting room.

As Harry walked into the house, he was surprised to find his wife strewn across the couch. He lifted his gaze and found Hermione beaming at him.

"What are you doing here?" he said, grinning and practically running to hug her. "We've missed you!"

"I've missed you too!" Hermione replied.

A bell went off in the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" asked Harry.

"Nothing much," said Hermione, going into the kitchen. "Just dinner."

"Dinner? You're _cooking_?"

"Hey! Don't look at me like that!"

"You didn't have to," said Harry following Hermione into the kitchen. "Did you clean?"

"Yes I did," replied Hermione. "So... What would you have eaten, then?"

"I would order something..."

"Well, _that_ was a good nap," said Ginny, joining Harry and Hermione.

"I bet it was," said Harry, giving her a peck on the cheek.

"I've just been so tired," said Ginny.

"I've been so bored," said Hermione, laughing.

Then a sudden idea popped into Hermione's head.

"Ginny, what if I'd help you? What if I came over a few times a week and help you take care of the babies?"

The redhead stared dumbfounded at her friend.

"I couldn't ask you to do that for me," she replied slowly.

"But I want to do it," said Hermione. "Think how fun it would be!"

"_Fun?_" said Ginny.

"Ginny," said Harry slowly, "I think you should take Hermione up on her offer."

Ginny looked at her husband and considered this for a moment, and then her face broke into a grin.

"I think this is going to be brilliant."


	12. Expecting the Unexpected

**Chapter Eleven**

**Expecting the Unexpected**

"I'm here!" yelled Hermione, as she came waddling through the door of 100 Penny Lane.

"We're in the kitchen!" Ginny yelled back.

"Put the trunk by the stairs," Hermione told Michael.

"Do you, uh... Do you know if Harry's in?" he asked, looking nervous.

"I doubt it. He's probably at the Ministry. Why?"

"Uh, nothing, just wondering."

"Hello!" exclaimed Ginny merrily, as Michael and Hermione joined her in the kitchen. The triplets were sitting on their rocker chairs on top of the table. When Ginny saw Hermione's face, however, she gasped.

"Yes, I know. I'm blowing up," said Hermione.

"I don't recall ever seeing you this swollen," said Ginny.

"My doctor said I would be fine." Hermione's easy tone did not match her expression. She looked worried.

"How are you?" Michael asked Ginny.

"Good," she replied. "I just fed these three."

"Hello, sweethearts!" gushed Hermione, kissing the three four-month-olds' chubby cheeks.

"They've grown so much since I last saw them!" said Michael.

"Yes, I know," responded Ginny curtly. "So... Er... What have you two been up to?"

"Oh, we're going to start moving in furniture when Michael comes back. We finished painting the nursery this weekend," said Hermione proudly.

"_We_?" retorted Michael, laughing. "_I_ finished painting while _you_ criticized my work."

"Yes, well, I cooked," said Hermione.

"Thanks for taking Hermione to her doctor's appointment last week," Michael told Ginny. "I had a previous arrangement and I couldn't make it."

_I bet you did_, thought Ginny.

"And for letting her stay here while I'm in Paris," finished Michael.

"No problem," Ginny replied. "It's the least I could do after Hermione has been so helpful these last few months."

"Ginny, you ended up taking care of me," said Hermione, laughing.

"Oh, shut up," said Ginny, smiling.

"Well, I better go." Michael looked fidgety, glancing at his watch. "The Portkey I scheduled is leaving in about an hour."

"Good luck," said Hermione, giving her husband a kiss.

"Take care of yourself," said Michael. "I'll be back in no time."

--

"_Harry," said Ginny anxiously, "what if something happened and they couldn't reach us?"_

"_Ginny," responded Harry patiently, "the babies are fine. Arthur and Molly know what they're doing."_

"_Still," she insisted. "Things can go wrong."_

_This was their first time out alone after Ginny had given birth. Harry managed to convince her to go out so they could have a nice quiet supper without distractions, but there was nothing that could keep Ginny from thinking that the triplets had been involved in some kind of freak accident._

_After finishing their date, the Potters decided to walk back home. They lived fairly close to The Leaky Cauldron, and Harry thought a nice short walk would help Ginny unwind._

_The streets were relatively calm, just a few people making their way in and out of the pub, and upon arriving at the crosswalk, there was only one couple waiting for the "walk" signal._

_The woman, a tall blonde woman with toothpick-like legs, had her arm tightly intertwined with her date's. Ginny couldn't see the man, but she could tell he was enjoying all the things the blonde was whispering to his ear._

_Harry and Ginny stood awkwardly not really wanting to hear anything the couple was saying. The man looked familiar, but Ginny had no idea of where she had seen him. It wasn't until she saw his face that she felt her stomach flip over in dismay._

_Of course he looked familiar. It was Michael._

_Ginny looked at Harry and he, too, was staring at Michael, outraged._

_A few seconds went by, and just when Ginny started to tug Harry's shirt so they would go the other way, Michael realized he was standing next to his wife's best friends._

_Putting on a bright smile, he exclaimed, "Harry! Ginny! What a coincidence!"_

"_Hello," said Harry slowly, trying to suppress his anger._

"_Where are you guys headed?" asked Michael, acting matter-of-factly._

"_Home."_

"_I hope you had a nice evening. Oh, I'm sorry," said Michael, as if he had suddenly realized he was with the woman in the very tight dress. "This is my friend, Patricia Walters. We've been friends since we were eight years old."_

_Patricia nodded stiffly._

"_We're just about to grab a few drinks to catch up. She just came back from France and we haven't had a proper... chat. Hermione was going to join us, of course, but she was too tired to come. It's a shame because I know she would've wanted to see you."_

_Ginny was glaring at him._

_**You should be ashamed of yourself**__, she thought with disgust._

"_Are you alright?"_

"_Right," snarled Harry. "Well, we have to go, but please tell Hermione we said 'hello'."_

"_I will. It's such bad luck that she decided to desert us tonight. I told her she should come! She was so tired." Michael was clearly trying to imply that Hermione had full knowledge of his evening out with Patricia and had even encouraged it. "Well, it was nice seeing you."_

_As they walked away, Harry and Ginny felt terrible for their friend. She was back home, alone and pregnant, while her husband went out for drinks—and who knows what else._

"_No one can know, Harry," said Ginny suddenly._

"_Ginny, he's probably cheating on her. I won't allow it!"_

"_Then find a way to stop it without her finding out," said Ginny. "If you tell her... She's six months pregnant, Harry. If you tell her, she won't survive it."_

--

"Ginevra, I'm talking to you!" exclaimed Hermione. "What on Earth are you thinking about?"

"Nothing important," she said, realizing she was distracted again.

"You look... preoccupied," Hermione said suspiciously.

"Oh, please... What were you saying earlier?"

"I asked, what are we going to do today?"

"_You_ are staying put," said Ginny, getting up from the sofa and taking the tea set back to the kitchen. "I don't want you walking around the house."

"You're taking this out on me because Harry did this to you," said Hermione.

"Hermione, you can't even see your ankles!" exclaimed Ginny. "You are swollen!"

"Fine," said Hermione reluctantly. "I can't believe I'll be stuck in the sofa for a week."

"Better believe it now," said Ginny, giggling. Suddenly she turned serious. "Listen, I need to talk to you."

"What about?"

"Um, Ron is coming over this afternoon. You don't mind, do you?"

"It's your house, Ginny. I can't tell you who you can have over and who you cannot."

"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable," said Ginny.

"I'll be fine." There was a tone of annoyance in Hermione's voice. "Ron and I have moved on."

"Alright, then," said Ginny.

Ron was at the front door by four.

He knocked on the door twice, and waited outside for a couple of minutes. He wasn't expecting that a very pregnant Hermione would open the door.

"Hello, Ron," she said, her voice as soft as always.

"H-Hello," he said slowly.

"You're not the first one that's been surprised by my appearance, you know."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare, or anything—I mean, I wasn't staring, but—"

"Come in," said Hermione, "Ginny's upstairs with the babies."

"Thanks," said Ron awkwardly, starting to go up the stairs.

Hermione closed the door and started to go up the stairs as well, although very slowly and with much difficulty, since her seven-month-old pregnant stomach didn't allow her to do any better.

"Do you need help?" asked Ron, noticing Hermione's struggle as he was halfway up the stairs.

"You go up," Hermione answered, breathless. "I'll be fine."

"No," said Ron, turning and going down the stairs. "I'll help you."

"Please Ron, I'm really okay," she pleaded.

"Don't be so bloody proud," he replied. He gave her his arm so he could wrap hers around it to gain support. She looked at him with hesitation and grabbed the arm tightly. Hermione let go as soon as they got to the second floor landing.

"Thank you," said Hermione. "Ginny's in the nursery."

"Where are you going?" asked Ron.

"I think I'll go to my room to unpack," said Hermione.

"Unpack?" said Ron. "What? Are you moving in?"

"No, Ron. Michael is going to Paris for a week and I'm staying with Harry and Ginny until he comes back."

"Oh," said Ron. "Right."

"I'll see you around," said Hermione, walking into her room.

Ron saw Hermione close the door of the guestroom and felt something tugging at his heart, yet he quickly dismissed it.

"Ginny?"

"Oh, you're here," said Ginny, putting Becky in her crib. "Let yourself in?"

"Hermione opened the door," he said sourly.

Ginny bit her lip.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I forgot to tell you, and then I Floo-called you and you weren't home."

"Yes, well, you and I need to have a talk," said Ron.

--

_I hate this_, thought Hermione. _I absolutely hate it._

She was thinking, of course, about the horrible awkwardness between her and Ron. She was sure it would go away. But when?

_And __**why**__ do I have to pee again? _she thought furiously. _I have to pee every bloody five minutes!_

She stopped unpacking and walked out of the room. She was going to open the door to the bathroom when she clearly heard her name from across the hall, from the triplets' room. Against her better judgement, she walked over to the door and stood there quietly, eavesdropping.

"Just because we're no longer together it doesn't mean that I don't care about her anymore, Ginny!" she heard Ron say.

"Ron," said Ginny in a patient voice, "she is _seven_ months pregnant. Why don't you get that in through your head before telling me what to do?"

Ron remained quiet.

"He's just so..." Ron sighed. "Hermione lets him get away with _everything_. That's not like her. Why can't she recognize that he's a pile of—"

"Ron, don't."

"He's sleeping around!"

"You don't _know_ that! Shut up or she'll hear you," Ginny whispered angrily.

Just then, one of the babies started crying.

Hermione felt a steely cold creep up her spine.

They were discussing her... her _marriage_. They were practically saying what a failure she was. And how Michael was... How he was—No, she wouldn't even think about it. She wouldn't think about it because it was not true.

She slowly walked into the bathroom and as soon as she was done, she went to her room to lie down.

--

"No, Ron! I'm not having this conversation with you anymore!" Ginny hissed.

"I can't believe that you, of all people, are going to let Michael get away with—"

"I told you to shut up, Ron! She's staying right across the hall! And I think you should stop discussing Hermione's marriage with Harry."

"What are you talking about?"

"Ron, don't think I don't know where you're getting ideas from."

"They are not ideas! These are the facts, and she will find out sooner or later!"

"Ron!"

"Okay! Fine," said Ron. "I have to go, anyway. I'm meeting Claudia for dinner."

"Say 'hello' for me," Ginny told her brother.

"Do you... Do you think I should say goodbye?" asked Ron.

"I... I don't see how that could be a problem," said Ginny, sighing. "I honestly think that maybe it's one of those little things that can... Oh, I don't know, help dissolve that awkward feeling between you two. Come on; I haven't checked on her in a long time."

Ginny knocked softly on the door of the guestroom. When Hermione didn't answer, she opened the door and peeked inside.

"Hermione..."

"Is she sleeping?" asked Ron.

Ginny brought her index finger to her lips to tell Ron to stay quiet. She kept her eye on Hermione, who had her back to the door, and saw how just for a second her body shook with what seemed like a sob. Ginny hurried into the room.

"Hermione? Hermione, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," croaked Hermione, in a voice very unlike her own. "I just feel tired."

Ginny noticed how her friend was breathing with difficulty, and her fists were grabbing the pillow as if she was going to fall off a cliff. Her face was red and still swollen, and there were tears streaking down.

She touched Hermione's face with the back of her hand and she was terrified when she realized she had a fever.

"Hermione," she said calmly, "what are you feeling?"

"I just need to lie down for a bit," Hermione responded.

"Tell me, Hermione. I need to know."

Hermione flinched suddenly and grabbed the pillows even tighter.

"Oh God," said Ginny, losing her grip on the situation. "Where does it hurt?"

"My lower back, mostly," said Hermione, as two more tears escaped her eyes. "Ginny, I'm scared."

"We have to take you to the hospital," said Ginny, unable to hide the anguished expression on her face. "We have to take you _now_. Ron, I need you to stay here with the babies. Harry should be home any minute."

"I'll stay," said Ron quickly. "Do you need me to get you anything?"

"I need to get my things," said Hermione faintly. "I can't leave without my things."

"No, Hermione," said Ginny firmly. "There's no time for that. I'll come later and get some things for you. Ron, I need you to help her to stand up. I'll go get her purse."

Ron hurried over to Hermione's side, and she put her arm around his neck. With his right hand he supported her back and with his left hand he supported her free arm. Once she was standing, Hermione continued breathing harder, and within seconds, she vomited all over Ron.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed, fresh tears coming to her eyes. "I'm really sorry..."

"No, please," said Ron, "don't worry. I can clean that later. Are you alright?"

"My stomach hurts," she continued, sobbing.

"Okay, I found it!" she exclaimed as she ran into the room. "Oh, Ron..."

"Forget about me," he said. "She said she's feeling a lot of pain in her stomach."

"Ginny," said Hermione, clutching her chest anxiously. She was hyperventilating. "Ginny, something's wrong. I-I can't breathe..."

"Hermione," said Ginny, "calm down. I need you to calm down. Everything is going to be alright but we have to apparate. Otherwise, we won't get there on time."

"On time for what?" asked Ron, looking alarmed.

Ginny shook her head. "Don't," she mouthed, mortified.

"Ginny! She can't apparate!"

"Breathe in and breathe out," Ginny was telling Hermione. "That's it... Slowly... Look at me. You have to calm down because if you don't you are only going to get worse. We're going to get you help now, but you have to calm down."

"Ginny, you can't be serious," said Ron.

"It's not that far away!" exclaimed Ginny. "We'll use side-along apparition. Hermione, can you do it?"

Hermione nodded weakly.

"Alright, hold on tight. Ron, please take care of the babies and please tell Harry what happened. He'll know where to go."

In a matter of seconds, Ginny and Hermione were standing in front of St. Mary's Hospital.

Ginny tried to hurry Hermione through the doors of the Accident & Emergency department. She walked up to the girl behind the counter and looked at her anxiously.

"My friend here is pregnant and she needs help," she blurted out.

"Well, please fill out this form for me," said the girl calmly.

"It's an emergency!" cried Ginny.

"We can't take care of your friend if you don't fill out the form."

"If you don't get her help right now I'm going to start screaming!" Ginny almost yelled.

"Let's just sit down, Ginny," said Hermione. "I can't stand much longer."

The girl looked at Hermione and her eyes were opened wide in realization.

"You're... Oh my God..."

"Hermione, you need help as soon as possible!" exclaimed Ginny.

"Hang on," said the girl, picking up the phone.

--

"Do you want me to help you put on that gown?" asked Ginny, as soon as the nurse had left her and Hermione alone. Hermione was lying on a bed in a secluded corner of the A&E department.

Hermione nodded.

Ginny helped her sit up a bit and pulled her dress up. She tied the flimsy hospital gown behind Hermione's back and helped her friend lie down again, covering her with the warm blankets the nurse had brought.

"She said your doctor would be here soon," said Ginny softly. "Can I get you anything?"

Hermione shook her head miserably and suddenly flinched.

"Just breathe," said Ginny in soothing tones. "You're having contractions."

A sob suddenly escaped Hermione's lips.

"It's okay." Ginny was about to cry herself. "Just keep calm."

"I don't know what's wrong," said Hermione through her tears. "Something went wrong and I don't know what happened. Something's wrong, Ginny..."

"Shh..." said Ginny, trying to keep her calm. "I know... I know."

"Is everything alright?" asked a tall, young nurse, opening the curtain that gave Hermione privacy as she walked over to her side.

"I think she's having contractions," said Ginny. "Do you know how much longer we'll have to wait for the doctor?"

"He'll be here shortly," said the nurse rudely. "Meanwhile, we need to observe her and the baby, so I'll attach these monitors to her stomach."

Ginny held Hermione's hand as the nurse hooked up the devices to her friend's stomach. After a few minutes, the nurse started looking a bit vexed.

"Miss Granger, I don't think I can find a heartbeat," she said.

Hermione's face looked as white as Nearly Headless Nick's. Ginny's heart was pounding against her ribcage.

"No... No, that can't be right," said Hermione frantically, tears swimming in her eyes. "You have to try again..."

"I'm terribly sorry..." said the nurse coldly.

"Hello!" said Ryan cheerfully, who appeared from behind the curtain accompanied by an older, seemingly wiser nurse. When he saw Hermione, his expression changed completely. "What's going on here?"

"I can't find a heartbeat," the young nurse explained.

"That's because you're doing it wrong!" exclaimed the other nurse, incredulously. She told her co-worker to move over and started fiddling with Hermione's monitor. Soon after, the sound of the baby's heartbeat filled the room.

Ryan let out a sigh and looked severely at the young nurse.

"I'll deal with you later," he told her. "For now, just get out."

Ginny was caressing Hermione's hair in an attempt to relax her, but she thought there was little she could do.

"Okay, Hermione," said Ryan. "What's been going on?"

"I started feeling an ache on my stomach," sniffed Hermione, "and then I started cramping... I just think something went wrong, Ryan..."

"When I went into the room she looked as if she was in a lot of pain," Ginny added, "and then when she stood up she... well, she got sick, and then started hyperventilating."

"Alright," said Ryan, reading something on Hermione's medical chart. "Let me take a look at you."

After Ryan examined her, he went to the nurse's station for a moment. When he came back, Hermione was waiting impatiently for his diagnosis.

"I have to hospitalize you, Hermione," he said. "You're already having contractions and on top of that your blood pressure is very high. Also... Well, the baby's heart rate worries me."

"But... but that can't be," said Hermione, wide-eyed.

"These things happen," said Ryan. "For now, I'm going to prescribe an anti-anxiety drug—"

"No," said Hermione firmly. "I'm not taking that. No drugs."

"As your doctor, I have to insist," said Ryan. "It's important if we don't want to put the baby in serious distress, and I don't want you having anymore anxiety attacks. I need you to relax. I know you're nervous, but you _must_ relax. I'm also prescribing something that will hopefully prevent labour from progressing."

"Okay," said Hermione quietly.

"Alright," said Ryan. "I'm sending you to the Lindo Wing's Maternity Unit."

--

Ron was pacing the entrance hall of 100 Penny Lane, waiting for Harry's arrival. Approximately an hour or more had gone by since Ginny left with Hermione and he still had no news. He was worried sick as he thought about Ginny and how she mentioned they would have to make it to the hospital "on time."

"I'm home!" Harry yelled, as he opened the front door. When he saw Ron standing there, he froze.

"What happened to you?" he asked, as he tried very hard not to laugh, looking at Ron's stained robes. "Merlin... What's that smell? Did you feed Henry again? And have you never heard of the Scourgifying charm, Ron?"

"Harry, Ginny had to take Hermione to the hospital," said Ron hurriedly. "She's really sick."

All the laughter that had been bubbling inside Harry quickly dissipated.

"Ginny told me you'd know where to go," said Ron.

"St. Mary's..." muttered Harry. "I have to change into Muggle clothes."

As Harry ran up the stairs, Ron followed.

"You have to call Molly," Harry said, taking a random shirt out of a drawer. "You need help with the babies. Did they leave a long time ago?"

"About an hour," said Ron.

"And they haven't sent news yet?" said Harry. "That's not good. Um, I'll send news when I get there."

And without another word, Harry disapparated.

--

Sitting in a snug rocking chair next to Hermione's bed, Ginny felt her eyelids flicker. They had transferred Hermione to a private suite in the south wing of the hospital, and Hermione had fallen asleep, partly because of exhaustion and partly because of her medications. To prevent herself from falling asleep, Ginny stood up and went out of the room, in search for some coffee or tea.

As she wondered the halls of the Lindo Wing, Ginny saw excited couples walking out with their babies, or the occasional grandmother coming in to see their new grandchild, or maybe even... Harry? _Harry!_

Ginny practically ran towards her husband as soon as she saw him.

"How is she?" Harry asked anxiously as his wife hugged him.

"She's not good, Harry," said Ginny, her eyes starting to glisten.

"What do you mean 'she's not good'?" said Harry.

"She's very anxious," Ginny explained. "Her doctor told me she had a panic attack. And her blood pressure is very high, and that may mean that... t-the baby..."

She didn't even finish her sentence. Her voice broke.

"I thought she was having a miscarriage, Harry," Ginny said softly. "It was horrible."

"Shh..." whispered Harry to her ear, trying to soothe her. "It'll be fine."

"Come," said Ginny. "Let's go to the room."

"Have you tried calling Michael?" Harry asked his wife as he followed her into the room.

"No... Hermione has a... a telephone, but I didn't know how to use it," she said, closing the door.

"Let me see if I can reach Ron first," said Harry, grabbing Hermione's Blackberry from the nightstand.

"Shouldn't we call Michael first?" said Ginny.

"What can I say? I'm a little biased."

--

"Ron, why don't you take a shower?" Molly suggested as she finished changing Henry's nappy. Baby Ron was crying in his uncle's arms. "Hand me little Ronnie."

Ron handed his nephew over to his mother.

"She'll be fine," Molly told her son, looking at him softly, with sympathy in her eyes.

"Harry said he would let us know how she was," said Ron quietly.

"Well, they don't have a... a _fellytone_ here, do they?" asked Molly.

"It's in the kitchen," replied Ron. "You know what? I'll go sit next to it in case it rings..."

"Ron, please..."

"I'll see you downstairs."

The phone rang as Ron entered the kitchen.

"Hello? Harry?" His voice was urgent.

"The doctor decided to hospitalize her, Ron. She'll be staying here until her condition stabilizes."

"What does that mean? Is she okay?"

"We... We don't know yet."

"What do you mean—"

"Look, I'll call when I know something else, alright? Are the babies alright?"

"Yes. Mum's here."

"Okay. Thanks, Ron."

"Just let me know as soon as you know something else."

"I will."

--

"Everything's alright," said Harry. "Molly's there."

"Oh, good."

"Let's call Michael now."

"Harry... _Behave_," said Ginny.

"It doesn't ring. I just get a recording," said Harry, irritated.

"Well, try again, then."

After trying several times, Harry began to get frustrated.

"Why don't we call Beth? She must know where he's staying," suggested Ginny.

"Alright," sighed Harry. "Her, I can deal with."

"Hello?" came a voice into the line. "Hermione? Is that you?"

"Er, no... Is this Beth?"

"Yes it is," said Beth, taken aback. "Who am I speaking to?"

"It's Harry. Harry Potter."

"Oh, Harry! I didn't recognize your voice! Sorry I haven't been over to visit lately... I've just arrived from Bedford with John and the kids... I've been planning Charlotte's christening and it's been busy, busy, busy!" said Beth hectically.

"Yes, I can imagine..." Harry said as soon as Beth gave him a chance. "Listen, we have a bit of a situation in our hands."

"Oh, God... It's Hermione, isn't it? Is she alright?" Beth joyous tone was replaced by a sombre, serious voice.

"Ginny and I are in the hospital right now. There have been some complications..."

"Alright, I'll be over there soon. I'll leave the children with John and the nanny. St. Mary's, right?"

"Yes."

"Has the doctor seen her?"

"Yes, he did. Ginny said he seemed... worried."

There was a moment of silence on the line, as Harry felt Beth getting panicked.

"I'll see you soon," she said.

Within a few minutes, Beth was in the hospital.

"Have you called Michael yet?"

"We tried," said Ginny. "The call won't go through."

"Fuck," Beth hissed. "Where the hell is he now?"

--

"Hermione, we have to perform an emergency caesarean."

The words Hermione feared hearing the most were uttered by her doctor around midnight, hours after her admission to St. Mary's Hospital.

"But I'm... I'm not ready! It's not time yet!"

"If we don't do it... Hermione, you can die. You can both die."

"Ryan... I'm only thirty three weeks along... _Please_... It's too early," Hermione begged. "It's too soon. I'm not ready for this. Michael's not even here... I can't do it..."

"We can give the baby the help it needs if we take you to the operating room right now—"

"But what if the baby doesn't make it! What happens then? Ginny, _please_ tell him..."

Ginny looked at Ryan hopelessly, not knowing what to say or what to do. Beth, who was sitting in a corner of the room, stood up and tried to convince Hermione.

"Michael is on his way," said Beth, not having the heart to tell her sister-in-law that Michael was nowhere to be found, not even after leaving several urgent messages for him at the hotel, on his Blackberry, even in Liam's phone, in the hopes he might know how to reach him.

"But _why_?" Hermione kept asking. "Why can't we wait?"

Ryan just kept repeating some speech about Hermione's dangerous blood pressure, and weak contractions...

_Weak contractions?_ Hermione wanted to shout. _Let's put you through this and see how weak they are._

"Hermione, I'm not going to have this discussion with you anymore," said Ryan. "I'm sending the nurse and the anaesthesiologist to prep you for surgery. I'm not losing a patient over this argument."

Ryan exited the room and Hermione just cried on Ginny's shoulder. Beth went after the doctor.

"Ryan," she said, almost crying herself. "Tell me what's wrong."

"If I don't do this, they'll both die, Beth," said Ryan. "Her blood pressure is abnormally high, and the baby is not getting enough oxygen. I know she's scared. I _know_ she is. But there is no other way to do this."

"Fine," said Beth breathlessly. "Do whatever you have to do. Just take care of her."

"Of course I will."

--

Back in the room, Ginny was sitting next to a much calmer Hermione when Beth came in.

"I'll go in with her," said Ginny, softly patting Hermione's hand.

"Perfect," said Beth.

"They... They said I would be conscious during the surgery." Hermione was trembling.

"Yes, but you'll be fine," said Beth. "Ginny will be with you all the time."

"Where's Michael?" Hermione asked Beth once more.

"He's on his way."

"Are you... Are you telling me the truth?" Hermione really didn't know if she wanted Beth to answer.

"Why wouldn't I?" Beth said, laughing nervously.

"Because he's your brother... and you think I can't handle the truth."

Beth was surprised by Hermione's words. She was also hurt, but what hurt her was that Hermione probably knew what Michael had been up to lately, what Beth wanted to protect her from.

"Hermione, I'm being completely honest. Stop fussing over this. I talked to him and he told me he'll be here _soon_."

"But why couldn't I talk to him?"

Suddenly, Beth's Blackberry started vibrating in her hand. Her heart leapt as she saw Liam's name on the little screen.

"Oh, thank God!" she muttered under her breath.

"What is it?" asked Ginny.

"I've got to take this phone call," Beth explained. "It's John. I'll go into the loo so the nurses won't see me. I'm not supposed to use this in here."

Beth shut the bathroom door behind her and pressed one of the Blackberry's buttons.

"Where the _fuck_ is he, Liam?" she whispered, enraged. "I want a fucking phone number. _Now!_"

"What the hell is going on?" Liam's voice came down the line. "I have about a million missed calls from you!"

"Hermione's in the hospital, that's what's going on!"

"Oh, Christ... Look, I'll try to reach Michael."

"Don't give me that crap, Liam. Don't give me that _bloody crap_! I'll reach him myself, and when I do, I'll murder him!"

In all his years knowing Michael and Beth, Liam had never_, __**ever**__,_ heard his best friend's little sister talk like this.

"I'll try to reach him, just calm down, for Merlin's sake!"

"You have five fucking minutes, Liam! _Five!_"

"Is Hermione alright?"

There was silence. Beth sighed.

"She is in very bad shape." Beth's voice broke unexpectedly. "They're going to take her to the operating room in a few minutes, and I can't find Michael anywhere!"

Liam remained silent as Beth cried silently.

"If I can't find him, I'll call you in five minutes."

Beth heard the line go dead and she reclined against the wall. Small sobs were shaking her body, sobs that she had been holding in all night, for Hermione's sake.

Then the Blackberry vibrated again.

_Michael_, appeared on the screen.

"Where have you been?" Beth's voice had a menacing tone; it was low and restrained.

"I went out," replied Michael, knowing what was ahead of him.

"I have been trying to reach you for hours." Her voice was shaking, her sobs still making her body tremble.

"How is she?"

"Her blood pressure won't go down," Beth started explaining, "and the baby is not getting enough oxygen. They are about to take her into the operating room. Michael, you have to get here as soon as possible. She doesn't stop asking for you, and I told her you were already on the way, but she won't calm down."

"Er, fine, I'll apparate."

"No! You won't be able to concentrate and then you'll get splinched and I can't handle a splinched man and a pregnant woman in labour all at the same time!" Beth finished with a huge sob.

"Alright, Beth, I think that the one who needs to calm down right now is you."

"Beth?" Ginny knocked on the door. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be out in a minute," Beth shouted. "Just get a Portkey, Michael. Pay anything. Just get here _soon_."

"I'm on my way now. Are you alone with her?"

"No, I'm with Ginny. Harry left a while ago to help Mrs. Weasley with the children. Something about his brother-in-law having to leave..."

"Have you called Mum and Dad?"

"Yes. Mum said to keep her updated, but if something happened after midnight to please hold the news until at least 8 a.m."

"Of course... How could I expect anything more from her?"

"To be honest," said Beth, "it's better this way. Imagine what it would be like to have her breathing down my neck right now..."

"Yeah... Beth, would you put Hermione on the phone?"

"But I told her you were already on the way!" Beth repeated.

"If you don't put her on the phone now—"

"What? You're going to call Mum and Dad? You're not in a position to threaten me, Michael."

"If you don't put her on the phone now, I won't get a chance to talk to her before she goes into surgery."

"Oh," said Beth.

"Please."

"Hang on." She instinctively reached for her back pocket, where she had kept her wand most of the time during her Hogwarts' years, since she wanted to conceal the redness in her face. Then she remembered she didn't have a back pocket, that her wand was in her purse—which was on Hermione's nightstand—and that anyways, it had been years since she had actually put her wand in her pocket.

Resigned, Beth opened the door slowly. She made sure there were no nurses or doctors in the room and then walked over to Hermione's side.

"Michael's on the phone. He wants to talk to you."

Hermione wasn't sure if she was hallucinating. She looked at Beth dubiously as she took the phone.

"Hello?"

"Oh, darling... How are you feeling?"

"I'm... I'm about to have a caesarean, Michael," she said, her voice stilted.

"I know. I promise I'll be there soon. I'm waiting for a Portkey. Hermione... Everything will be fine."

"Where have you been?"

"I went out for a few drinks... I don't know what happened to the bloody phone."

"When are you getting here?"

"I'll be there very soon, sweetheart."

"Alright."

"I love you, Hermione," Michael said softly, sounding regretful.

"I... I do, too."

--

"Hermione, can you feel that?"

"No," she said, as firmly as she could.

Ryan was about to "cut her up," as Ginny had said. (She could not believe Muggles resorted to these "archaic techniques.") Given Hermione's condition, this was a high-risk procedure, and the room was filled with doctors and nurses; everyone was ready to act should something go wrong. There were at least five obstetricians, two paediatricians, and three nurses.

Hermione lay on the operating table, and Ginny sat next to her. As the procedure took place, she kept trying to come up with stories to distract her.

"Oh, the other day Angelina came by with the kids. They were in London visiting Fred at the store. Merlin... they have so much energy! I got exhausted just by looking at them run around the place." She was whispering conspiratorially, as if she were saying something inappropriate about her niece and nephews and one of the doctors or nurses there would tell Angelina. "I have no idea how she copes."

Hermione gave Ginny a feeble smile.

"Are you feeling okay?" Ginny asked her.

She just nodded slowly.

"Want to tell me something? I don't want to bore you."

"I'm happy to listen," Hermione whispered weakly.

After a while, Ginny started noticing how Hermione's eyes started to flicker.

"I'm tired," she said.

"Is she supposed to be falling asleep?" Ginny asked the nurse that was standing next to Hermione.

"No," the nurse replied, looking surprised. Ginny saw as she glanced uneasily at the doctor, but she couldn't see his expression.

"Hermione, are you with me?" Ryan said.

"Mhmm," was Hermione's weak reply.

"Okay, here we go," said Ryan.

After a moment, he said, "It's a girl, Hermione. You have a daughter."

"She not crying," whispered Hermione, looking at Ginny vacantly. "She's not..."

Ginny realized that the paediatricians hurried to assist the baby, accompanied by one of the nurses. The baby was still not crying.

"She's losing too much blood, Dr. Martin," Ginny heard one of the doctors mutter.

"She's... I want..." Hermione's words were incoherent.

"Hermione?" Ginny didn't know what to do.

"Try to keep her awake," said Ryan.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked the nurse closest to her. She was nervous, and fear rapidly started to grow inside her. Everything was happening very fast and she didn't know what to do. The nurse seemed at a loss for words.

"You need to keep her alert," the nurse replied. Ginny thought the nurse had just said that because she didn't know what else to say, but she tried to follow the instructions.

"Hermione, look at me," Ginny insisted. "Come on, Hermione; tell me about the baby's new room."

But Hermione closed her eyes as the machines around her started beeping frantically and the remaining doctors in the room gathered around her and swiftly started to work.


	13. Flowers

**Chapter Twelve**

**Flowers**

"But is she going to be alright?" Ginny managed to ask through her tears.

"She should be," Ryan responded. "But we can't be sure yet."

Ryan, Ginny, Beth, and Michael were standing in Hermione's room about thirty minutes after she had come out of surgery. She had been in the operating room double the time it typically took to perform a caesarean. Ginny had been crying ever since a nurse ushered her out when Hermione went unconscious.

Beth was standing next to Ginny. She had been trying to comfort her for a while, but it was hard when she was trying not to cry herself.

Michael had said very little since the moment he arrived, when he had found his sister and Ginny crying on each other's shoulders.

"She's heavily sedated; we wanted to make sure she would be comfortable. You shouldn't expect her to wake up for a while. Um, regarding the baby, Mr. Taylor will be here soon. He's the head paediatrician and he will explain her condition."

"Thank you, Ryan."

"You're welcome." The doctor looked at Hermione's sleeping figure sadly. "I'll be here tomorrow—well, actually in a few hours—to see how she's doing."

"Hello," said a man in white robes as he came into the room soon after Ryan left. "I'm Mr. Taylor."

"How is she?" asked Michael, standing up as soon as he saw him. "How's the baby?"

"Mr. Sandford, your daughter is very delicate at the moment. We're trying to do everything in our power to help her. I'm very sorry."

Michael looked as though he were on the vergeoftears.

"Since the baby was premature," the doctor continued, "we placed her in the special baby care unit. She can't breathe on her own, so she is connected to a ventilator, and we are giving her intravenous therapy."

"Will she be alright?"

"We have to wait for the next 24 hours," said the paediatrician. "We'll be able to determine what will happen if... well, if she makes it through the night."

"What can I do?" he asked, suddenly nauseous.

"I could recommend that you go back home. All of you, really. Both mother and baby have been through a terrible ordeal tonight, and they need to rest. Mrs. Sandford probably won't wake up anytime soon, I expect, although you might want to consult that with her doctor."

"I won't leave." Michael's voice was firm. "I can't leave them here alone."

"I... I understand. I'll keep you updated, Mr. Sandford." The doctor shook Michael's hand and exited the room.

Everyone sat in silence, terrified about the baby's fate. Michael covered his face with his hands and sighed.

"She'll be fine," said Beth quietly, trying to smile at her brother. "You'll see. They'll both pull through."

"I know," was Michael's reply. He brought his hands down and failed to show even the smallest smile. His nose was red, and he felt he had a knot in his throat.

Ginny looked at Michael thinking she had never seen this side of him before. She was slowly realizing how little she knew him at all. She had figured she could judge him by just knowing little titbits and facts about him, but now she knew there was more to Michael than met the eye.

_Newsflash, Ginny__: Michael Sandford has feelings, just like everyone else_, she thought, scolding herself in silence.

"Why don't you guys go home? It's terribly late and you have been here with her all night. I'll be fine."

"If you think you'll be alright," said Beth, standing up, "then I think I'll go home. I think Charlotte's developing a cold..."

"It's fine," said Michael.

"Are you sure you don't want to go home with me?" Beth asked her brother. "I'll set up the guest bedroom. We'll be back early, before she even wakes up—"

"Beth, the two most important people in my life are here. I can't go. I can't just leave them here. I don't want to, either."

"Do you mind if I stay a little bit longer?" asked Ginny.

"Not at all," Michael answered.

"I'm just worried about you, that's all," said Beth.

"I know. I appreciate it."

"I'll see you tomorrow," said Beth. "You should get some rest, Michael."

"Don't worry about me."

"Love you," said Beth.

"Bye."

After Beth left, there was an awkward silence between Ginny and Michael. She was trying to summon up the courage to confront him about the night they ran into each other.

"I can only imagine what you think of me," said Michael unexpectedly. "This random guy that married your best friend and is now making her life a living hell... He makes her unhappy... He's never there when she needs him... He's shagging everything that moves..."

Ginny wasn't expecting Michael to say that. Ever.

"I don't think that," she replied, embarrassed.

Michael looked at her incredulously.

"Entirely," she added.

"Harry had a talk with me a while ago. He was... Well, he was very angry, to say the least."

"Don't you get it?" hissed Ginny furiously. She was trying not to raise her voice, since Hermione was sleeping, but found this very hard. "She's our best friend. How can we _not_ be angry about what you are doing to her? You _lie_ to her. I _know_ you're feeding her lies. Just as I know that, deep down, _she_ knows you are lying. It's just that she'd rather not face the truth. We don't want her to get hurt, Michael. And... Well... Everybody says that you've been—"

"I know what everybody says, Ginny. Not that my marriage is anyone's concern..."

"I just want you to take care of her, Michael," said Ginny. "I want her to be happy, and she's just not happy right now."

"And I guess you think it's my fault," said Michael.

"Not all of it," said Ginny.

_She decided to marry you. That was clearly her fault_, she almost added.

"She's... She's lucky to have friends like you," said Michael.

"I'll see you tomorrow," said Ginny, standing up. "I'll bring a few of her things over. Is there anything I can bring you?"

"No, it's okay."

"Alright." Ginny left without saying another word.

--

Her eyes opened slowly. At first, she didn't recognize the place she was in, but slowly she realized that she was back in her hospital room.

Hermione tried to lift her head, but it felt too heavy. She looked around the room and suddenly something caught her eye.

It was the figure of her husband, sitting on the couch with his eyes closed, his head tilted a bit to the side, and arms crossed.

"M-Michael?" Her voice was weak.

Michael opened his eyes and lifted his head.

"You're here," said Hermione breathlessly.

"You're awake," said Michael, promptly getting up. "Do you feel alright? Do you want me to get anything for you?"

Hermione shook her head. She lowered her eyes and looked at the thin catheter taped to her right arm. The end was inserted through her skin, where several medications were entering her blood stream.

"My hand's numb," she told Michael.

"I know. I'm sorry."

Michael sat on the bed looking at Hermione in silence. He took Hermione's bare, cold hand and held it.

"Are you cold?"

She nodded.

"I'll get you another blanket."

"No," Hermione said. "Stay with me."

She noticed how his eyes were swollen and his nose was red.

"Michael? How's the baby?"

Michael looked down and swallowed nervously.

"They're taking care of her, sweetheart."

"Is she okay? Michael... Tell me she'll be fine..."

"They don't know yet, Hermione."

"What do you..." Hermione choked up. If they did not know how her baby was going to be, that meant that they were not sure she would make it.

Michael squeezed her hand gently.

"Can I see her?" Hermione asked.

"Darling..." Michael started.

"Please... Let me see her," she pleaded through her tears. "I want to be with her."

"I don't think that is a good idea, Hermione. You must rest."

"Have _you_ seen her?"

"I..." Michael swallowed. "I saw her when they were taking her to the nursery. I didn't get to see her properly, though."

He was not about to mention she was surrounded by three paediatricians that were trying to keep her alive.

"Oh," said the nurse that suddenly walked into the room. "It's nice to see you're up, Mrs. Sandford."

Hermione dried her tears with her sleeve.

"I'll be out of here quickly, don't worry," said the nurse, walking over to her side and detaching the bag of IV fluids from her catheter. "I just have to hook you up to a new set of IV solution. Do you need anything to make you feel more comfortable?"

"She mentioned earlier she was cold..." said Michael, his voice softer than usual.

"I'll bring some extra blankets, then."

After the nurse left, Michael and Hermione remained silent. When she came back with the blankets, they nodded politely. No one said anything until the nurse was about to leave.

"Excuse me?" said Michael.

"Yes?"

"Do you think...? Is it possible to see our baby?" he asked.

The nurse looked uncomfortable.

"I don't think that is a good idea," she said. "Mrs. Sandford is in no condition—"

"Please," Hermione pleaded.

The nurse sighed.

"I... I'll see what I can do."

As the nurse closed the door, Hermione squeezed Michael's hand.

"Thank you," she said.

Michael looked at Hermione through sad eyes, full of remorse. She had never seen him act this way.

"What is it? Why are you looking at me like that? Do you know something I don't know? Is something wrong?" Hermione felt anxious.

"No... It's just... I'm so sorry, Hermione," Michael told her, squeezing her hand as well. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here sooner..."

"You couldn't have prevented it. I know you had to leave for business. I know you wouldn't have left otherwise."

"I should have been available the moment they called me. I should've been paying attention to the phone..."

"It's not like you did this on purpose, Michael."

"No, Hermione, you don't understand... You don't understand at all..."

"What do you mean?"

There was a knock at the door. The nurse walked in.

"I talked to Dr. Taylor. Um, he said that he could make an exception and allow you to be in the intensive care area just for a few minutes, because it's not visiting hours."

"Thank you so much," said Hermione.

"You're welcome," said the nurse. "I'll bring you a wheelchair."

Once the wheelchair arrived, Michael helped Hermione to sit. The nurse transferred the bag of IV solution to the wheelchair, and they made their way to the nursery. Michael held Hermione's hand all the way.

Once in the nursery, the nurse moved Hermione's IV once more, this time to an IV pole, to allow her mobility. Hermione walked slowly, her stomach in horrible pain. Michael walked next to her, assisting her.

As soon as she saw several babies in incubators, she started feeling sick.

When Hermione saw the incubator with a pink card that read "Baby Sandford," her heart skipped a beat. No one had prepared her for what she was about to see.

The baby was connected to several machines that made Hermione shiver. She also had a small cuff around her little ankle, a tube going in through her mouth, and her IV was going in through her forehead, right above the hairline. However, those were not the only things that impressed Hermione. The baby's size scared her the most. She couldn't have been longer than her forearm.

"Oh my God," whispered Hermione. "Michael... She's..."

"I know," he replied, turning away and wiping tears away from his eyes.

Hermione looked at her daughter as her heart ached. A sob came out of nowhere and she felt herself tumbling back. Michael caught hold of her with the help of the nurse, and someone brought a chair.

"Do you feel alright?" she heard someone ask her.

She simply nodded, fat tears escaping her eyes.

"You should go back to your room," said the nurse.

"Can't I stay with her for a few more minutes? She's here all alone... I don't want to leave her alone."

The nurse looked at Michael, looking for support.

"Let us stay for a few more minutes," he said instead.

"Alright, I'll give you five minutes, tops."

"Thank you," Michael responded. He helped Hermione stand up and they walked together towards their daughter's incubator.

"She's beautiful," whispered Hermione, with her voice filled with emotion. She could barely talk. Michael was behind her, supporting her, since she was so weak.

"Yes, she is," said Michael, sounding emotional as well.

There was silence for a moment.

"It's my fault," Hermione whispered. "It's all my fault."

"Hermione, listen to me," said Michael, holding her tight. "There is no possible way you could have prevented this."

A small sob escaped Hermione's lips.

"These things can happen to anyone. It's just that this time it happened to us. We will come out of this, we are going to take her home, and she will have a wonderful life. So don't you dare say this is your fault, Hermione. Don't you dare," Michael said firmly.

"We've got to name her." She sniffed after a moment. "We don't have a name yet."

"I know... Well, I had been giving this a lot of thought a while ago," Michael whispered to his wife's ear. "What do you think about Jane?"

Hermione's head turned quickly to face him. She smiled softly.

"Like Mum."

Michael nodded.

"It's perfect. That's the perfect name."

"Look at that hair," said Michael. "She's going to be a beautiful redhead."

"You're right," said Hermione, suddenly surprised. "Why?"

"Well, my grandparents were Irish," said Michael. "If I remember correctly, Nana had fiery red hair. And besides, Mother is a redhead as well."

"_No..._" said Hermione, trying to hold back her laughter. "Elizabeth Sandford cannot possibly be a bottle blonde."

"Oh yes," said Michael. "She goes to great lengths to maintain that hair of hers."

After a pause, Hermione spoke, suddenly serious again. "She's going to be fine, right? She'll be fine, right?"

Michael, who couldn't control or predict what was going to happen to his daughter anymore than he could control or predict the weather, kissed the top of his wife's head and answered, "She'll be out of here in no time. You'll see."

--

"It is a bloody nightmare to carry these around. I want to see Muggles work themselves around this one."

Hermione heard these words early in the morning, as Ginny and Molly came into her room. They were carrying a suitcase.

"Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed gently, suitcase falling with a heavy thud to the floor.

She walked up to her friend and hugged her, but not too tightly. She was holding Hermione as if she were scared to break her.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes," said Hermione weakly, her voice hoarse. "Hello, Molly."

"Hello, dear." Molly kissed the top of her head. "How's the baby?"

"They... They said they're not sure yet," Hermione replied.

Molly and Ginny did not know what to say.

"Well, what did they say about you?" Ginny asked.

"They said I would be just fine."

"Good. That's very good news."

"The thing is," said Hermione, eyes watering up, "I don't think I want to be fine if my daughter... if she's dying."

"Oh, don't say things like that," Molly said quickly, producing a handkerchief. "You will be both fine. Don't worry."

"Where's Michael?" asked Ginny.

"I... I'm not sure," said Hermione, suddenly looking confused. "He was here when I fell asleep."

"He probably went out for coffee," Molly said.

--

He had been standing there for about an hour. He could not sleep. He could not eat. He was filled with horrible dread.

He felt terrible about not being here for Jane's birth. If it had not been for the wizards that allowed him to travel with them, Michael was sure he would have spent the night in Paris. With this being the peak of the travel season, there were few Portkeys available. The thing that had been playing repeatedly in his head had been the fact that he had not been working that night. If he had only made his phone available, he would have been there in time.

"I won't be going abroad anymore," he remembered saying to Hermione a few hours earlier. "Not without you."

"But what about your job?" Hermione had asked in confusion. "Don't you need to travel very often for your job?"

"I... I don't care about that anymore. If I need to travel again, I'll make arrangements to have you and Jane there with me. And if for any reason you two can't travel, I'll find someone to replace me. Maybe Liam or Dad can do it. Bottom line is that, I won't allow myself to be apart from you again."

"Sweetheart," said Hermione patiently, "you're being irrational."

"I... I will not do this to you again. I promise."

Michael stood in front of the window to the nursery, looking at the happy families—the _lucky_ families—that got to take their newborns home that day. Once or twice had people stopped to look at him as they walked past him, thinking they were looking at the one and only Michael Sandford, heir to the Sandford fortune, but quickly dismissing their suspicions. After all, he was not that recognizable. Eyes bloodshot, hair untidy, shirt wrinkled... Who would expect a multi-millionaire to look like that?

Looking at his watch, he realized Hermione's doctor would be arriving shortly. He took one last look at the nursery and headed to her room.

He wasn't expecting to find Ginny and Molly Weasley there so early.

"Hello, Michael," said Molly as softly as possible, since Hermione was sleeping. She got up to shake his hand but he hugged her instead.

"Hi," he replied. "Hello, Ginny."

"How are you?" she asked.

"How would you be?" he replied miserably.

"No news then?"

"No. Her doctor will be here shortly, and we're still waiting for news on the baby."

"Did you decide a name?"

"Jane Elizabeth, after her grandmothers."

"It's lovely," said Molly.

"Good morning," said Ryan, coming into the room.

"Hello," said Michael.

"So," said Ryan, "how did she spend the night?"

"She drifted in and out of sleep all night," replied Michael, looking haggard. "As soon as she woke up she wanted to go and see the baby—"

"Did they allow you to see her?"

"Yes," replied Michael, "But just for a few minutes."

"Well, according to Hermione's chart," said Ryan, shuffling the papers he had in his hand, "she's stable. We just need to monitor her for a few more days and if she continues to improve, I'll discharge her in no time."

--

"What are you going to do with all these?" Ginny asked.

"I have no idea," replied Hermione.

Two days after giving birth, Hermione lay on the bed surrounded by several floral arrangements, most of them from Michael's friends and extended family, and the rest from the Hogwarts faculty, the student body, the Weasleys, and the Potters. Ginny and Hermione were alone. Today, Molly was helping Harry with the triplets, and Michael had just gone to the cafeteria for some coffee.

"Can you bring me a bit of water?" Hermione asked Ginny.

"Sure," Ginny said, standing up and walking out of the room.

Hermione felt exhausted, which didn't make sense to her; she had been resting for the last couple of days. The only relief she had gotten had been that they had taken Jane out of the horrible incubator. She was still hooked up to several machines, but the doctors said that her chances were improving.

Finally, Hermione saw the light at the end of the tunnel.

As she mulled over her thoughts, the door opened, and her visitor was someone unexpected. Hermione's heart dropped.

This time, Claudia Macmillan was dropping by, bringing with her a bouquet of pink roses.

"Hello?" said Claudia softly, coming into the room. "Oh, you're awake! I was just going to drop these off. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Hello," said Hermione, trying to digest her shock.

"Congratulations!" exclaimed Claudia, walking up to the bed and giving Hermione a peck on the cheek. "How's your daughter?"

"She's getting better, thanks," replied Hermione slowly, not believing she was having this conversation.

Just then, Ginny came back with Hermione's water.

"Hey!" said Claudia.

"Claudia!" Ginny laughed nervously. "Er... Lovely flowers! What on earth are you doing here?"

"Thanks! They're from Ronnie and me," replied Claudia, turning to smile at Hermione. "I told him we should visit or we should _at least_ have sent something, but the big baby just kept making up excuses so I took matters into my own hands. Still, maybe I shouldn't have gotten flowers. I didn't expect you to have so many already."

"The flowers are lovely," said Ginny, taking the bouquet from Claudia's hands and placing it by the window. "Aren't they, Hermione?"

Hermione just nodded briefly, staring at Claudia with tears in her eyes.

"_They're from Ronnie and me." They're from Ron and __**her**__._

"Do you... want to sit down?" asked Ginny, hoping she would say no.

"I'm just visiting for a few minutes," said Claudia. "Just wanted to bring the flowers myself. I... I have to get back to the Ministry. It... It was lovely seeing you, Hermione."

"Yes," said Hermione, almost whispering, as she looked away. "Thank you."

"I'll walk with you," Ginny told Claudia. "Be right back, Hermione."

Once they were out in the room, Ginny turned toward Claudia.

"Thank you so much for the flowers. They're beautiful."

"I'm so sorry I dropped by unannounced. The last thing I wanted was to upset her."

"Oh, no, please, she's just on so many medications that... She's a bit emotional at the moment. It was a very nice gesture. I know she appreciates it."

"Of course," replied Claudia. "I really need to go anyway so... Let's have lunch soon, alright?"

"Definitely," said Ginny, forcing a smile.

--

Hermione was discharged from the hospital a week after giving birth. Michael spent every day in the hospital with her; he had been living off the little suitcase he had packed for his trip to Paris. He did not even show up for work. Elizabeth and Peter Sandford had visited only once. She was drowsy and had difficulty remembering what Elizabeth had said. Well, at least the medication had worked for something.

Three days after the birth, when doctors were sure Jane's condition was improving, Hermione and Michael got to hold their daughter for the first time.

At first, Michael had been reluctant because he didn't want to hurt his baby, so he just watched as the nurses transferred Jane from her little cot carefully, handling with care all the cables and catheters that were attached to her body.

Hermione's eyes watered up as Jane's tiny fingers wrapped around one of hers.

"She's a princess," said Michael, beaming down at his little girl.

"Yes, she is," said Hermione.

--

Since they did not know when Jane would be discharged from the hospital, Michael told Hermione he could arrange for them to stay in London so they would be close to the hospital. They ended up staying at The Ritz for two weeks, until the paediatricians decided Jane was ready to go home. When they arrived at the house in Hogsmeade, Michael had a surprise in store for his wife.

As Hermione entered what would be Jane's room, she gasped.

The room that had been a mess the day she left, was now the most precious room anyone could have. The light coming in through the big French windows made the room look spacious. It was painted pink, with elegant white crown moulding. The ceiling had been painted light blue, with delicate clouds. There were beautiful pink lilies everywhere, placed in different vases all around the room. Immediately, Jane's room became Hermione's favourite room in the house.

Michael had brought in decorators as well, apparently. There was an exquisite chandelier with pink crystals hanging from the ceiling, a beautiful antique rug on the hardwood floor, and Hermione recognized the round hand painted cot as the one she had seen in a catalogue but had never told Michael she wanted.

"How did you know?"

"You used to stare at it all the time. The catalogue became tattered because of all the times you took it out of the 'baby magazines' pile. How could I not know?"

"This is wonderful, Michael. I thought we would have to work on this all month."

"Beth helped me to get all the people in to work on the room. She was here every day last week, making sure everything was ready by the time we got back."

"It's amazing. I love it."

"I'm glad."

Hermione walked to the centre of the room and was amazed by the beautiful painting to her left. Not too big, but definitely not small, it had an ornate golden frame, and showed a smiling ballerina on stage poised in a pirouette, carrying a bouquet of flowers in one of her hands. She was dressed in very light pink, a contrasting colour to the green forest behind her. The painting looked vaguely familiar, although Hermione did not know where she had seen it before. As she got closer, she was able to distinguish the artist's name.

_Degas_.

Hermione stood speechless staring at the painting.

"Do you like it?" asked Michael, his voice making obvious the fact that he was smiling.

"Is this... It can't be... _original_?"

"Well, it's Mum and Dad's gift to Jane and you," replied Michael. "Mother has had it for years sitting in her vault, and when Beth told her that we had this little project, she decided this was the perfect place to put it. It's called '_Dancer with a Bouquet of Flowers,_' and I think Degas painted it in 18… something."

"This is unbelievable," said Hermione.

"Do you like it?" Michael asked her again.

"It's beautiful, Michael. This whole room is… perfect. Look, Jane," Hermione cooed to the baby in her arms. "Look at what Daddy has done for us. It's our own princess room."

Jane yawned.

"I think this girl needs a nap," said Michael.

Hermione placed her daughter in the cot and she and Michael just stood there admiring her.

"We're finally home," he said.

"Yes, we are."


	14. Everything She Needs

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Everything She Needs**

"Hurry up! I don't want to be late!" Michael yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

"Michael, I'm moving as fast as I can! I just finished dressing your daughter, alright?"

"Is she ready?"

"Yes! And I'm almost done, I just need you to come up here and take her downstairs while I put on my dress!"

Michael went up the stairs and into his room. Jane was sitting on her pink bouncy chair, playing with her favourite rattle. The four-month-old was wearing a beautiful white lace dress with lots of yellow, pink, and blue ribbons intertwined in the fabric.

"Well, you look gorgeous!" said Michael effusively, picking up Jane. "Mummy put you in a lovely dress."

"Will you zip up my dress?" asked Hermione, walking out of her closet. When she saw Michael was holding Jane, she said, "Never mind."

"You look beautiful," Michael told her.

Hermione was wearing a rose-coloured dress with an intricate bodice that had hundreds of tiny horizontal pleats forming an elegant design, and a voluminous chiffon skirt that had many, many layers. It was a strapless dress, low in the back. A bit tight at the top, but the skirt opened up beautifully. She looked like a movie star.

"It's not too much, is it?" she asked nervously. "Ginny said we should use dress robes, but I don't want to be overdressed."

"Well, better to be overdressed than underdressed, don't you think? And I think you look stunning," said Michael, grinning. He took his wand out of his robes' inner pocket and pointed it at Hermione's dress. With a swish and a flick, her dress was zipped.

"So, are you done?"

"Um, I think I am," said Hermione, looking around.

"What are you looking for?"

"I just want to make sure I'm not forgetting anything..."

"Do you have the diaper bag?"

"That's it!" said Hermione. "The diaper bag."

"Just put on your shoes," said Michael. "I'll get it. Do you have their present?"

"Oh, I forgot that too. Would you grab it for me? It's on top of the dining room table."

"Sure. By the way, is there any chance we can take the car?"

"Ha! Absolutely not," said Hermione, going into her closet to get her shoes. "Last time I said yes, it was four hours until we got to Bedford and five until we got to London. If you hadn't been flying, we would have taken twice that time. I don't even want to know how long it takes to get to Cornwall in a car. You must be insane if you think I'll agree to you driving cross-country today. Besides, I already owled Bill and Fleur, and they will be expecting us to arrive via Floo Network."

"I'm sorry I asked," Michael muttered under his breath.

As soon as they were all ready, Michael got the Floo Powder and Hermione stood in the fireplace, holding Jane very close to her. She grabbed a handful of powder and said, "Shell Cottage!"

As Hermione felt herself beginning to spin, she closed her eyes and held Jane tightly. In about a minute or so, she was standing in Bill and Fleur's sitting room.

"Hello?" she called out. "Bill?"

"Hey! You're here already!" said Bill, walking into the sitting room with Philip clamped to his back.

"Phil, I'm letting you go," he said.

"No!" said Philip. "Why can't you carry me around all night?"

"You must get down, because if I carry you all night I'll never be able to walk again."

"Well, then leave me on the sofa," replied Philip, giving his father the "grown-up" tone.

Bill sat on the sofa and Philip let go of his neck. He got up and gave Hermione and Jane a kiss.

"You look amazing," he complimented.

"Thanks," said Hermione. "Where's everyone else?"

"You're actually the first ones here," Bill told her. "Where's Michael?"

Just then, Michael appeared in the fireplace. He looked quite funny, since he was carrying Hermione's handbag, a big rectangular gift box, and Jane's diaper bag.

"Hello," he said, stepping out of the fireplace.

"I was just telling Hermione that you are the first ones to arrive," said Bill. "Ginny left about an hour ago to get ready. She should be here shortly with Harry and the triplets. Anyway, how is this girl?" He kissed Jane's cheek once again.

"She is doing wonderfully," replied Hermione proudly.

"Hello," said Fleur, who was already dressed up. She looked ethereal in a flowing turquoise dress made of a fabric that looked like silk chiffon. The short sleeves of the dress were embellished with precious stones. "Hermione, you look amazing! And I absolutely adore Jane's dress!"

"Well, thank you! You look beautiful!"

"Merci beaucoup," Fleur replied, giving Hermione a bright smile. "Philip Louis, did you say 'hello' to your aunt?"

"No," the three-year-old said bashfully. He jumped down from the sofa and walked up to Hermione to give her a kiss. When she stooped down so he could reach her, he also kissed Jane's cheek.

"She looks very pretty," Philip said.

"Thank you," said Hermione. "You look quite handsome as well."

"And he's not even ready yet," said Fleur. "I have to finish tidying your hair, Philip. Let's go."

Philip followed his mother obediently.

"So, where is the rest of the family?" asked Hermione, sitting down on the sofa. Jane was playing with her earrings.

"I have no idea," replied Bill. "Mum and Dad are supposed to be Apparating any minute now. Is your sister coming, Michael?"

"Yes, Beth should be here shortly."

"Well, I have to tell you, Mum and Ginny love her. And for the few minutes I spent talking to her at the wedding she seemed quite nice. Is she bringing her children?"

"I don't know," replied Hermione. "She might leave the nannies in charge."

"Oh, she should bring them. They would have a lot of fun."

The front door opened and Molly and Arthur walked in. Molly looked beautiful in a set of long deep red dress robes made out of raw silk and woven with gold and silver thread. Bill quickly got up to help them take their coats.

"Well, well, well!" Arthur exclaimed. "You beat us to our own anniversary party!"

"It's all my obsessive-compulsive husband's fault," replied Hermione, getting up to receive a hug from Arthur and a kiss from Molly.

"Are you all doing well?"

"Yes, we are," said Michael. "Thank you for asking. And congratulations, by the way."

"Michael, did you bring our present?" asked Hermione as she sat back down.

"I have it right here," Michael replied, giving the gift box to Molly. "Happy anniversary."

"You shouldn't have," Molly reprimanded. "We said 'no gifts.'"

"Well, this is special," said Hermione, with a grin from ear to ear. "Open it!"

Molly sat down next to Hermione and slowly undid the elegant bow on top of the golden box. When she opened the box, she found an old photograph with two fresh, young, and familiar faces smiling and waving at her. They were sitting on a blanket by the lake, on a picture perfect summer day.

"Where did you find this?" Molly asked, her eyes watering up.

"At school, gathering dust in a box in the trophy room," replied Hermione.

"What is it?" asked Arthur getting closer to Molly.

"It's us," said Molly. "Look, Arthur... It's us."

"You look just the same," said Bill. "Younger, and yet the same."

"Merlin's beard..." said Arthur.

"I can't believe you found this," said Molly. "I didn't even remember we had a camera that day..."

"This is incredible," said Arthur.

"Why?" Bill voiced the question he, Hermione, and Michael had in their heads.

"This picture was taken right after I proposed to your mother," Arthur explained. "Thirty-four years ago."

"Someone probably took them by mistake," said Michael.

"Maybe," said Arthur. "They got lost in time."

"Thank you so much, Hermione," said Molly. "This is wonderful."

"I'm glad," said Hermione, hugging Molly.

"Let me put that away for you," said Bill, taking the frame and walking out of the room.

"And how is this lovely girl?" asked Arthur.

"She looks beautiful in that dress!" said Molly, making funny faces at Jane.

She giggled, bearing a huge smile.

"Come here, you little princess," said Molly taking Jane from her mother's arms.

As Molly proceeded to play with Jane, Hermione felt happiness seep into her. She realized that Jane did not only have Elizabeth and Peter as grandparents; she also had Molly and Arthur, and they, to all effects, were more affectionate than Michael's parents were. Hermione considered herself and Jane lucky for being considered Weasleys. For being loved as if they were Molly and Arthur's own.

"Hey, do you want to see the marquee?" Michael said softly as Molly and Arthur became more distracted with Jane.

"Sure," replied Hermione, following him outside.

The marquee was a beautiful thing to behold. The decorations were all golden and there were beautiful floral arrangements everywhere. There were also some fairies fluttering around, giving off a pretty sparkle.

"Didn't Ginny do a marvellous job?" asked Molly, coming up behind Michael and Hermione with Jane in her arms. "The rest of the girls helped her, especially Fleur, but Ginny planned the whole thing."

"Everything looks perfect," said Hermione.

--

Soon, the guests started arriving and the party got underway.

Harry, Ginny, and the triplets were almost the last to arrive.

"I know, I know! We're late," Ginny told her mother before she could reprimand her. "I had to change Becky twice. Is that Jane I see?"

Jane was sitting on Hermione's lap, drinking a nice bottle of milk as her mother chatted to Molly and Beth.

"She's grown so much! And we only saw her a couple of weeks ago!"

"I know!" said Beth. "That's exactly what I said! Where are your children?"

"Oh, Harry's got them inside. They're about to take a nap. Did you bring yours?"

"Yes. Charlotte and Andrew are taking a nap, but the other two are running around with Angelina's, I think."

"Here you are," said Michael, appearing with John and setting a glass of water next to Hermione. He grabbed a chair and sat down next to Molly. "Hello, Ginny."

"Hello. Anyway, I'll see if Harry's taken care of the babies. I'll be back in a bit."

"Ginny's always so nice," Beth said, as Ginny walked into the house.

Molly smiled. "Believe me, she's a handful even now that she is married and has children."

Beth laughed.

"Would you like to dance?" John asked Beth.

"Of course," she replied, beaming as she stood up. "Excuse us, ladies."

"You're excused," said Michael, in a very high voice. Beth stuck her tongue out at him.

"I'm going to see if I can grab Arthur for a dance," said Molly, getting up from her chair. She gave Jane a kiss in the forehead and walked away.

"So," said Michael, leaning towards Hermione. "Have you been enjoying yourself so far?"

"Well, I'd love to dance, too," Hermione said laughing, "but I have to take care of the princess first."

"Hi," said Harry, appearing with Ginny. "Sorry we're late."

"Hello," replied Hermione, as Harry kissed her cheek.

"Jane's looking good!"

"Thanks," said Michael.

Jane suddenly yawned.

"I think it's time for a nap," said Hermione." She must be exhausted."

"Do you want me to get her inside?" asked Ginny.

"Well—"

"That would be great," said Michael quickly. "That way we can dance."

"Fine," said Hermione.

"Alright," said Ginny, taking Jane, who smiled. "You're a sweetheart, you know that?"

As Ginny and Harry walked away towards the house, Michael took Hermione's hand and led her to the dance floor.

"The Weasleys may be crazy, but I really like being around them," he whispered to her ear.

"I told you," she replied.

They continued dancing, but soon after Michael talked again.

"And you thought _you_ were overdressed... I might need sunglasses."

"What do you mean?"

"Look."

Hermione turned, and immediately she knew what Michael meant.

There was a beautiful blonde girl dressed in a stunning, golden, off-the-shoulder dress covered top-to-bottom with thousands of gold sequins. The dress was a bit tight, and had a hint of cleavage, but it made her look spectacular. Everyone on the dance floor and around the marquee stared at her and her date as they walked toward Molly and Arthur. It did not take Hermione long to realize that the girl was Claudia Macmillan and that the man accompanying her was, _obviously_, Ron. She looked like she had been submerged in glitter, given the dress and the jewellery she was wearing.

"Wow," said Michael. "I mean... Wow..."

"Michael!" hissed Hermione.

"What? I'm just saying... I mean, look at everybody. They're all staring." Michael paused and stared at Ron. "Lucky man. Isn't that one of Ginny's brothers? The one I met on New Year's?"

"That's the one."

"I admire the man."

"I'm going to sit down."

"What? Why? I haven't done anything!"

"I just don't feel like dancing, that's all. You know what? I'll check on Jane instead." Hermione left Michael standing alone and headed towards the house.

"Where's Jane?" she asked Ginny, who was in the kitchen, helping Fleur with the food.

"She's upstairs, in Philip's room with the rest of the children. Why? Are you alright?"

Hermione hesitated. She looked out the door. Ginny followed her gaze, looking out the kitchen window.

"Oh, my idiot brother just arrived, didn't he? Who is he with?" she asked, squinting her eyes to make out the girl's face. "I thought he was bringing Claudia!"

"He _did_ bring Claudia."

"No..." Ginny said in a whisper. "That is _not_ Claudia Macmillan."

"Oh yes, it is. Believe me," said Hermione.

"Who knew?" Fleur said, looking out the window.

"I'll go check on Jane," said Hermione.

"You do that," said Ginny, still staring out the window. She took off the apron she was wearing and walked out of the house.

When Hermione got to Philip's room, she almost burst out laughing. There were children _everywhere_.

On one side of the room were Henry, Ron, and Becky. Right across from them, by the window, were Jane, Charlotte, and Andrew. Some sleeping bags had been placed on the floor, and Angie and Philip were sleeping peacefully.

Hermione wrapped Jane with a cosy blanket and kissed the top of her head.

"Why did your mother have to be so stupid?" She was looking out the window now, at the people dancing downstairs. "Merlin... I'm going mad."

Hermione gave Jane another kiss and went downstairs.

--

"You have got to stop doing that," said Michael for the third time. "You're driving me insane."

"Doing what? I'm not doing anything!"

"Hermione, you're actually glaring at them. I have no idea why, but you're glaring. And you have been sitting here, arms crossed, glaring at the poor bloke for about an hour. If I didn't know any better I'd be jealous."

Hermione remained quiet.

"Come on. Let's dance."

Without waiting for an answer, Michael took Hermione's hand and led her to the centre of the dance floor. A beautiful song started playing and the scene would have been heartbreakingly romantic, had it not been for Hermione looking over at Ron and Claudia every chance she got.

"Stop it..." warned Michael. "Enjoy yourself."

"I'm sorry," said Hermione.

"Don't be sorry, Hermione," said Michael. "Just stop obsessing over them and her bloody dress. You look more beautiful than anyone here."

In spite of herself, Hermione smiled.

"I do not," she said. "You know that better than anyone."

"In my eyes, no one can be more beautiful than you."

As Hermione looked right into Michael's eyes, she couldn't explain why she felt so sad.

"Michael—"

"Shh... Enjoy yourself."

They finished dancing and she saw Ginny was coming from the house, levitating a beautiful cake in front of her.

"I'll go see if she needs any help with the cake," Hermione told Michael.

"Alright."

Hermione walked to the table where Ginny had placed the cake. Ginny was enchanting knives to cut it quickly.

"Do you need help with anything?"

"Oh, um, would you take those two plates to Mum and Dad?" said Ginny distractedly.

"Sure." As Hermione reached for the two plates, one of the enchanted knives cut the back of her right hand.

"Ouch!"

"Careful!" said Ginny.

"Let me see." Ginny pointed her wand at Hermione's hand and tried to heal it.

"It's still hurting," said Hermione.

"Not only that; this will leave a nasty scar. Here, wrap your hand with this," said Ginny, flicking her wand at a napkin and using it to cover Hermione's wound. "Let me know if it's too cold for you. Fleur!"

"Yes?" said Fleur, appearing next to them.

"Do you have Murtlap Essence?"

"Of course. It's in the kitchen. I'll get it for you."

"No, don't worry," said Hermione quickly. "I'll get it myself. Where is it?"

"It's in the cupboard over the stove. If you need anything else, let me know."

"Thanks."

Hermione walked over to the house. As she went in, she noticed it was empty and quiet; everyone was outside. She made her way into the kitchen, but came to a sudden stop when she saw Ron nursing a Butterbeer at the table.

"Hi," he said, looking as surprised as she felt.

"Hello."

"What happened to your hand?"

"Oh... Er, enchanted knife... You know, the usual."

Ron laughed.

"Let me help you with that." He put the Butterbeer bottle on the table and walked over to the stove, getting a bottle of yellowish solution out of one of the cupboards. He grabbed one of the dishtowels hanging from the refrigerator and cleaned it with a swish of his wand. "Give me your hand."

Ron dabbed some Murtlap Essence on Hermione's hand.

"Does it sting?"

"A little," she said nervously.

"Well, that means it's working."

After a minute, Hermione spoke.

"I think it's fine now."

"Oh. Sure." Ron put the cloth down and closed the bottle of Murtlap Essence. "You... You should soak your hand in some of this when you get back home. Do you want to take it with you?"

"I'll tell Michael to get some for me."

"Of course." Ron suddenly felt foolish.

Hermione's cheeks turned bright red. She was standing very close to Ron, and her heart started beating faster and harder.

"I met Jane," he said unexpectedly. He smiled briefly, waiting for Hermione's reaction. She did not know what to say.

"She's lovely," Ron continued. "She has your eyes. And your smile, as well."

"Everybody says the same thing." Hermione laughed nervously.

"You look beautiful," he said, sounding as sincere as ever.

"Oh, and so does Claudia," said Hermione. There was a hint of resentment in her voice.

"Point taken," said Ron, looking down.

"I... I better..."

"Hermione." Ron's hand wrapped around hers.

"What?" she said softly.

"Don't you... Don't you ever wonder?" he whispered, raising his gaze and looking directly into her eyes.

Hermione's heart was beating so fast she thought he could hear it. She suddenly noticed she was holding her breath.

"What... What about?"

"What would have happened if we... If we had never broken up? What if we'd never given up? Or what if you had never walked away from me that night and I had never left..."

"Ron..." She raised her hand to cup his face. That's when she realized just how much she missed him. She missed running her fingers through his hair. She missed his touch. She suddenly realized just how much she wanted to kiss him right there, in the middle of Fleur's kitchen, without caring about the crowd outside. Without caring about anyone or anything at all.

"Because I wonder..." he told her, looking as if he were being tortured. "Every single day."

She wanted to tell him so many things, yet she didn't know where to start.

"I—"

"Hermione, did you find the Murtlap Essence?" Fleur's voice came from the sitting room into the kitchen, making both Ron and Hermione jump.

"I... I've got everything I need," Hermione called out, suddenly withdrawing her hand from Ron's face, as though it had been stung. She brought it up to cover her mouth, to stifle an impending sob, and her eyes filled with tears as she crashed back into reality. Before Ron could say anything, she walked out of the kitchen and ran up the stairs.

**Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for all those nice reviews you've sent! Keep 'em coming!**


	15. Picture Worth More Than a Thousand Words

**A/N: WHOA! I had no idea you guys hadn't seen this chapter. I'm very sorry it's so late; I haven't updated in eight months!!!! D: Anyway, here you go. I hope you enjoy it and expect the next one very very soon; it's already been edited.**

**Chapter Fourteen**

**A Picture Is Worth More Than a Thousand Words**

"Jane, please, just do this for Mummy," said Hermione. She was exhausted. Feverish, seven-month-old Jane would not stop crying. Hermione had been trying to give her a potion to bring the fever down but Jane wouldn't swallow it.

This week, things had been tense around Michael and Hermione. They had had a couple of rows due to Michael's recent change in his work schedule, and the fact that he had left Hermione to deal with a sick baby by herself. He had been working on a deal with Gringotts and working with goblins had been poisoning his attitude, making him very difficult to live with.

Hermione put the crying Jane down on her bed. She walked over to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of Floo powder and shouted "100 Penny Lane!" Shortly, she was looking into Ginny's sitting room.

"Ginny?" Hermione called out desperately. "Where are you? I need help!"

Soon, the rush of footsteps was heard coming down the stairs.

"Hermione? Where are you?" asked Ginny, looking around.

"Over here! The fireplace!"

"Merlin! Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"It's Jane. Can you come over? Are you alone with the triplets?"

"Uh... I'll... I'll tell Mum to take care of them. She's upstairs. I'll be right over."

Hermione sighed in relief and stood up. When she turned to face the bed, she saw how Jane had turned over and had crawled to the edge of the bed. She was a hairsbreadth away from falling to the floor.

"Jane!" she screamed, rushing to pick her up. Jane was startled and started crying once more. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, sweetheart." Hermione started crying as well.

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice called from downstairs. Hermione heard her run up the stairs. She quickly appeared at the door. "I'm here! What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"I don't know what to do with her!"

Ginny walked to her side and took Jane from Hermione.

"She has a fever—"

"I know!" said Hermione, bordering on hysteria.

Jane cried harder.

"Shh..." said Ginny soothingly. "Calm down sweetheart. Shh... Everything will be fine... I know it hurts, darling."

As Ginny tried to calm Jane, Hermione sat on the bed, crying.

"Hermione, calm down," Ginny told her. "Jane's going to be fine. She's just tired, and achy, and uncomfortable. Why don't we give her a bath?" She went into the bathroom and ran a bath for the baby. "Hermione, get me some towels!"

When Hermione went into the bathroom, she found Ginny looking closely at Jane's back.

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione.

"Jane has dragon pox," replied Ginny, getting Jane out of her little tub. "We need to get her to St. Mungo's."

---

"She'll be as good as new in a couple of days," the healer told Hermione.

"Are you sure? Is she really going to be alright?"

The healer laughed gently.

"Trust me, Mrs. Sandford. You're lucky you read the signs quickly and correctly."

"Thanks," replied Hermione. She turned and sat next to Jane's little cot. She was sleeping.

"What did he say?" asked Ginny, coming into Jane's room with two cups of tea.

"He told me she'd be fine in a few days' time," said Hermione, taking one of the cups. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

"That's what I'm here for," said Ginny, squeezing Hermione's shoulder.

They had seen Jane as soon as she came into the hospital, since a case of infant dragon pox is treated as a priority over other less dangerous illnesses. Hermione called Michael to let him know what had happened once they had seen the healer and once she had talked to Ben. They were waiting for him.

"Has Michael called back?"

"Not yet. He's probably on his way."

Suddenly, someone passed the room in a blur.

"I think that was him," said Ginny.

"Michael?" Hermione called out.

His head popped into the doorframe.

"I knew it," said Ginny, taking a sip of her tea.

"Is she okay? Is she alright?" he asked frantically.

"Healer said she would be fine is a couple of days," said Hermione softly. Michael was as white as a sheet of paper.

He walked over to his daughter's side and stared at her for a minute. Tears welled up in his eyes as he kissed her little hand. Hermione stood behind him, running her hand up and down his back, wanting to make him feel better.

Michael was devoted to Jane. He was smitten with her. He always called her his princess. His little girl.

"I'm going home," said Ginny awkwardly. "You guys are all set here. If you need anything, let me know." She hugged Hermione, and nodded to Michael. He stepped toward her and, to her infinite surprise, hugged her.

"Thank you, Ginny," he said sincerely.

"You know there's nothing I wouldn't do for Jane. She's practically my niece." Ginny leaned into the cot and planted a soft kiss on Jane's forehead. "I'll see you later."

After Ginny walked out, Hermione sat on the chair next to the cot.

"Are you alright?" Michael asked her.

"I'm so embarrassed," she said, looking up at him in complete mortification. "I shouldn't have panicked the way I did. Merlin, I completely lost it..."

"Don't start blaming yourself," said Michael. "I would have lost it too. I wouldn't have known what to do."

"But Michael," Hermione insisted, "this should have never happened. I've been reading parenting books for months—"

"You know books don't have the answer to everything, don't you?"

"The point of reading the books is learning so you don't panic when—"

"Hermione," Michael interrupted. "Your reaction was perfectly natural. You were scared. Any parent would have been."

"Hey," said Ben, appearing at the door. "You're here."

"Just got here," said Michael, receiving a pat in the back from one of his best friends.

"I talked to her healer," Ben told the anxious parents. "You'll be able to take her home tomorrow afternoon. They want her to spend the night."

"Alright," said Hermione. "Thanks so much, Ben."

"It's no problem at all."

"Are you off duty now?" asked Michael.

"Yeah. I'm heading home," replied Ben. "Are we still listening to the game at my flat this weekend?"

"Sure," replied Michael.

"Alright. Tell Liam that if he wants Firewhiskey, it's on him this time. See you tomorrow, Hermione."

"Bye."

Hermione and Michael stayed quiet for a few minutes.

"Going to blow some steam off this weekend, I see?" said Hermione.

"Don't..."

"No, I'm only saying how surprising it is that you can't seem to help with Jane at all since you have been working _so hard_ on that thing with the Goblins, but you already have plans with Liam and Ben for the weekend..."

"I need to take a break from work, Hermione! When are you going to understand that every morning I leave to go to work, not to go and play Quidditch?"

"If you need a break, why don't you take it with us, then?"

"I just... I already planned this out with Liam and Ben. Can I just get a little time with my best friends? You _know_ how much I love you. You _know_ how much I adore you both."

"I... I understand what you're saying, Michael. I just wish you were home more often. That's all. Do you... happen to have anything planned for next weekend?"

"I'm all yours. I believe we have a special date coming up?"

"Do we?" Hermione grinned, in spite of herself. "I can't remember."

"It's unbelievable how quickly a year goes by."

"I know..."

"Do you have something in mind? Anything you want to do? Beth told me she could take Jane for the weekend—"

"I thought we could spend our anniversary together. The three of us."

"Sounds perfect."

---

"_Hello there."_

"_Not now, Patricia. I'm already late."_

"_Don't be difficult, Michael," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. He quickly pushed them off._

_They were standing outside the Sandford Corporation building. It was early in the morning, and Michael was meeting with some investors. Patricia happened to be walking into the building as Michael walked to the entrance._

"_I'm going to my chateau in Provence next week. Interested in joining me?" she asked, laughing. Now she was clinging to his jacket. "Another one of your fabulous business meetings in Paris would be the perfect—"_

"_Stop it, alright!" Michael snapped. "Back off, for God's sake!"_

_Patricia looked at him with fear and surprise. She quickly recovered._

"_Back off? What? She gives birth and suddenly everything changes? You must be joking!"_

"_It's over! We are __**done**__, Patricia! Fuck... Why can't you understand? My wife and my daughter mean more to me than you ever will. And I'm not going to hurt my marriage anymore. She doesn't deserve this."_

"_Fuck off," she hissed, and stormed into the building._

This was all playing in Patricia Walters' head as she stood looking out the window in her office.

Even though the affair had blown over months ago, she still couldn't get over the fact that Michael Sandford had rejected her. He had literally pushed her away. And no one ever said "no" to Patricia Walters.

"Ms. Walters?" A voice interrupted her thoughts. Patricia turned and found Rebecca, her secretary, standing at the door.

"What?"

"Megan Wickham is here to see you."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Send her in!"

"Of course."

Patricia sat on her elegant leather chair and pulled her wand out of her handbag. She pointed it at her face and with a swish and a flick, her makeup looked as perfect as ever. She put the wand away immediately.

"Well, Patricia," said a tall, thin brunette appearing on the door. "I'm surprised you didn't call me earlier."

"Timing is everything, Meg," Patricia replied, getting up to kiss Megan. "Have a seat. Did you bring them?"

"Of course I did, darling. You know better than anyone how much I can profit from this."

"Let me see."

Megan passed the brown folder she was holding to Patricia. She took five photographs out.

"This is brilliant."

"Not as brilliant as you," said Megan. "To be honest, when you asked me to send that photographer to trail you, I thought you had gone mad."

"No," Patricia laughed. "I just had the bigger picture in mind."

"Are you really sending her these?"

"Of course I am. He wants to be with her, doesn't he? Well, let us see if she wants the same thing when she has proof of what he has been up to. All those articles you published for me weren't enough for her, right?"

"Why are you doing this now? He dumped you months ago."

Patricia's nostrils flared.

"In case you haven't noticed, Meg, I wanted to keep these as an anniversary present. It'll make their first a very special one."

"She is so thick," Megan remarked. "I can't believe that they're still together. He really must love her."

"He does _not_," said Patricia angrily.

"Not to burst your bubble, dear, but remember when you gave me all the details of the honeymoon? I had my people following those two all around Europe, and they all told me how he dotes on her. Even after we provided 'evidence,'" Megan said, making little quotation marks with her fingers, "that she was having an affair with Viktor Krum, Michael stood by. Never gave us any credibility."

"Well, she's never shown any tendency to look for affection outside her marriage, has she?"

---

Michael slammed the door as he went out of the house. Hermione flinched.

"Bastard," she muttered under her breath.

A new day, another morning in the Sandford residence that had started up with an angry exchange of words between Hermione and Michael. He, as always, had woken up with a mood that made him resemble someone that had Acromantula venom running through his veins, and this seemed to rub off on Hermione.

"Cleaning. That's what I'll do. I'll tidy the attic."

Jane was still sleeping, so she decided to make the most of her morning. She grabbed her wand and headed upstairs.

"Merlin..." Hermione muttered when she opened the door.

A light sheet of dust covered everything. There was an old desk in one corner, with a couple of big boxes on top of it. Most of the boxes around were Hermione's, but Michael had a few of his old Hogwarts things there as well. Hermione decided to begin by getting rid of all the dust. She scourgified everything around her until she was satisfied, then she opened the small windows to get some air in. It was cold out, and as she glanced at the grey sky, she realized it would snow soon.

Next to the old desk, there were a couple of empty bookshelves. She looked around and saw about five large boxes labelled as "books." Four were hers; one was Michael's. She grabbed Michael's box and dragged it over next to the bookshelves. She opened it, dusted the books, and started placing them on the bookshelves.

Around noon, Hermione took a break from organizing the attic and headed downstairs to feed Jane. She then fixed herself a quick lunch and turned on the wireless for a while. Before she knew it, she was dozing off on the couch.

An hour later, when she realized she had fallen asleep, she went upstairs to check on Jane. The baby was still sleeping; the potions she had been taking had made her drowsy. Hermione took the chance to go up to the attic and finish to shelve the books; she only had one box left and then the only thing she had to do would be to organize the other boxes so there could be much more space.

As she started to levitate the last box across the room, Hermione realized that it was much lighter than the other ones, so she decided to pick it up instead. As soon as she did, though, the bottom of the box opened up, and everything in it fell on the floor.

The box was not filled with books.

Hermione sat on the floor. In front of her lay an old lamp, the one that used to be on top of her father's desk; the beautiful porcelain doll her dad had given her for her fourth birthday; some linen tablecloths that used to belong to her grandmother... There were a few photo frames; some had still photographs, others were moving. Her parents were smiling up at her.

She couldn't believe these pictures had been stored for such a long time, especially when she had been looking for them since she moved.

The last item that fell to the floor was a book. It was one of the things she kept that belonged to her mother. The book was _A Tale of Two Cities_, which had been Jane Granger's favourite book; she had absolutely loved it. She had passed on that love to Hermione. All that time she had spent looking for it... She couldn't believe the book had been in the attic all along. She wanted to kick herself.

She leafed through the book. She smiled as she saw where her mother had folded the corners of the pages in the parts she really liked. When the book got lost, Hermione had been on her fourth reading, and as she reached the end of the book, she found a bookmark where she had stopped reading the last time. However, it was not any bookmark.

Hermione stared at the photograph for several seconds. Everything seemed to stop.

A younger Hermione was looking up at her, smiling broadly and giggling, as Ron planted kisses on her cheek. He had his arms wrapped tightly around her. They had taken the picture at the beach, in Cornwall, almost four years before, when they had taken a holiday as soon as they got out of St. Mungo's after the final battle. The wind was blowing gently on their faces...

Of all the pictures she had of her and Ron, this was her favourite.

She had completely forgotten about it. It seemed to her now that it was amazing just how many things she had forgotten. She forgot about the happy, fulfilling life she once led. And she couldn't believe it. She could not believe how much she had messed things up.

In that moment, Hermione wondered about the same thing that had been giving her nightmares such a long time ago. She wondered what would have happened if she had not been so stupid, so selfish, so irrational. What would have happened had she not given up on Ron. Had she not walked away that night.

---

"_What are you having?"_

"_Oh, I don't know yet... There are so many good choices..."_

"_Well, make up your mind soon," Ron told her. "I'm starving."_

"_You're always starving," Hermione laughed. She surveyed Ron from behind her menu. "You... You don't have anywhere to be right now, do you?"_

"_Of course not," said Ron, a bit too quickly._

_Hermione gave him a hesitant smile._

_They were at a very good restaurant in Diagon Alley. Ron had taken her out for dinner tonight. Things had not been going too well lately between them. Ron seemed to have taken his Auror training a bit too seriously, and that meant she was spending less and less time with him. He was becoming reclusive, too. Both Harry and Hermione thought Ron was too immersed in the Ministry's Auror Training Program—it felt as if Ron was in "Hermione-O.W.L./N.E.W.T. mode" most of the time. They were getting a bit worried, to be honest._

"_What are we going to do this weekend? I was thinking we could—"_

"_Actually," Ron interrupted Hermione, "I was hoping to go into the Ministry to work with Kingsley on a few things. He promised he would help me train on his free time."_

"_Of course," said Hermione. She looked away._

"_What?"_

"_Ron..." she hesitated. "Why don't we spend this weekend together?"_

"_Come on, I already told you."_

"_To be perfectly honest with you... I think you're taking this training too far."_

"_Not again, Hermione... First Harry, then Mum, now you?"_

"_I actually miss having you around," said Hermione. "We all do. You tend to go away for long periods of time, and then we—I can't see you as often... I don't even want to think about how things will be once I start teaching at Hogwarts. And... Well, lately it seems something is bothering you all the time. It's as if you're angry. What's going on? Why don't you want to tell me anything anymore?"_

"_Why can't you face that I'm finally good at something I really like?"_

"_You're missing the whole point, Ronald. I just—"_

"_You just want me to be with you all the time, don't you?" asked Ron defiantly. "Don't be so bloody selfish."_

"_Ron..." said Hermione, as if she had just received a punch to her stomach. Her voice was almost a whisper. "I just want you to be honest and open with me. Clearly, there is something bothering you. Why are you behaving like this?"_

"_Sir," a waiter interrupted, "you have received a message." He handed him a small piece of parchment._

"_Thank you," said Ron. He looked at the parchment and sighed. He remained silent for a few moments._

"_You're leaving, aren't you?"_

_Ron looked up and saw Hermione looking down, staring intently at her hands._

"_I... I can put it off."_

"_No. You know what? I won't even make you choose." Hermione stood up and grabbed her small handbag, which matched perfectly with the blue dress she had bought specifically for that evening. "I'm leaving. You go and do whatever it is that can't wait until tomorrow morning. Go on; go and share your life with whomever it is that you spend so much time with."_

"_Don't," said Ron, taking hold of her hand. "Let's talk about this."_

"_I already tried my best," said Hermione, her voice quivering. She managed to get her hand out of Ron's grip and stood there looking at him for a moment, with tears swimming in her eyes._

"_I have no idea of what is going on with you anymore. You're so secretive, all the time. You've... __**changed**__."_

---

Another day over. Another day he was buying his wife flowers. They didn't have any place to put them anymore.

Michael left the flower shop and walked over to the Leaky Cauldron to Floo home. Since he had been so exhausted lately, he had stopped driving his new Bentley to work.

He was walking out into his living room within a few minutes. He dragged himself over to the kitchen, where he found Hermione sitting at the table, staring blankly at her cup of tea. He placed the flowers in front of her.

"I think you are smart enough to know that I've become immune to flowers," she told him.

"What's going on?"

"I'm fine."

"That's not what I asked you." He sighed. "How's Jane?"

"She's fine. She slept through most of the day."

"Great. What's for dinner?"

"You want to eat? You cook. I'm going to bed."

"This early?"

"Michael, I've had a very trying day. Don't make it longer than it already is."

"Well, I need to tell you something," Michael said. Hermione turned to face him. "I sent the Goblins away today."

"What do you mean?"

"I broke off all talks. They were draining the life out of me. I can't keep going on like that. And I'm sorry because I've been bringing work home with me all these weeks."

"'Sorry...' You are always 'sorry,' Michael," Hermione said bitterly, getting up and placing her full cup of tea in the sink. "I'm tired of 'sorry.' It seems to be your favourite word in the English language. You don't care of what you do today because then you can be 'sorry' tomorrow."

"Hermione, I—"

"I have been taking care of our ill daughter for a week, all by myself. _I_ am the one that gets up in the middle of the night. _I_ am the one that takes care of her when she cries. Your body is here, but your mind is in London. You are never here. You can't stop thinking about work," Hermione continued, angrily wiping a tear off her face. "It was like you didn't care about me anymore! You chose to not open up to me. I wanted to share your accomplishments! You have no idea, _none_ at all, of how proud I was—I still am—of you! Of how much I really love you! But all you kept thinking was that I—I envied you, or something... Always so bloody immature... And now you come back and expect everything to be normal. You expect me to fall back into your arms like nothing ever happened. And it is so hard to resist you. There is nothing I want more than to forget everything that has happened, go back in time, and make no mistakes. But you have to face that the Ministry has you on a leash! And I can't compete with that! They call and you drop—"

"Hang on," Michael quickly interrupted. "What do you mean, 'the Ministry has you on a leash'? You are not making any sense."

"I—I don't..." She went too far with it. She slipped. She should have stopped talking ages ago.

"I meant the corporation. The company... It has you all tied up. Anyway, Jane needs you around. You can't let your work stop you from spending time with your daughter."

"I know. The thing with the goblins... It's over. Everything will be back to normal in no time."

---

"I was going to fix us a nice dinner, but I am exhausted."

"Well, that is perfect because I ordered a nice dinner," said Michael.

"What?"

"Once Jane falls asleep we can dig in."

It was Sunday evening, and Michael and Hermione had spent all day in Edinburgh with Jane. Their first anniversary had been truly special.

"But I'll have to take a shower first," Michael said, starting to go up the stairs, Jane in his arms. "I'm filthy."

"I'll be up in a minute," Hermione replied, walking into the sitting room. She noticed the pile of mail in the coffee table, and quickly rummaged through it to see if there was any news from Ginny or Molly. Most letters were for Michael, but there was a large envelope addressed to Hermione that heightened her curiosity. It had no return address. She promptly opened it.

_I think you should have this. You have a right to know how your husband likes to spend his time in France, _the letter simply read.

Attached to the letter were two black and white photographs. On the first one, Hermione recognized Michael, who was wearing a baseball cap, with his arms wrapped around a blonde woman with thin, toothpick-like legs. She couldn't make out her face, and the fact that she was wearing huge sunglasses did not help matters. The legs gave her a good idea of who it was, though. They were at a cafe in what seemed like a busy Parisian street, both sitting down at an outdoor table; the woman was sitting reclining on Michael. Hermione felt revulsion as she saw how he kissed her neck.

But it was the second picture that made her gasp. When she looked at it, Hermione thought she would die.

Michael and the blonde-haired woman, who Hermione could now confirm was Patricia Walters, were at a beach, lying down in the sand as they made out. Michael was just wearing his swim trunks. Patricia was topless.

Hermione stared at the pictures for several moments, not believing what was right in front of her.

"Alright," said Michael. "The princess is in—"

He stopped suddenly, right when he saw Hermione's horrified face. She let out a sob as soon as she saw him and covered her mouth with her hands to muffle it.

"Christ," Michael said urgently. "What happened?"

Hermione kept sobbing hard as tears slid down her face. She felt as if she did not have enough air.

"Hermione, please tell me what's—"

And then he saw. The note. The pictures.

Michael panicked in a way he had never done before. This was the moment he had feared for such a long time. This was the reason his conscience screamed at him every time he lied to his wife.

"Fuck," was the only thing that came out of his mouth.

Hermione just sobbed.

Michael started to breathe quite hard, as he racked his brain for an explanation. He stood in front of his wife thinking that could lie again, although there was a 99.9 percent chance Hermione would not believe him, or he could come clean. Either way, he did not know what to tell her.

"Hermione, I—"

"I trusted you!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "I believed every _disgusting_ word that came out of your mouth!"

"Hermione, please let me explain." Michael started to cry.

"You—miserable—_bastard_!" She was now hitting Michael's chest as hard as she could, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You—arrogant—_arse_! You—stupid—"

"Hermione—"

"I'm a laughingstock, Michael," she continued, sobbing. "How could you do this to me?"

For a moment, everything remained quiet. Only their sobs could be heard.

"I didn't mean to—to hurt you," Michael finally said. "I just—"

"Oh, you didn't mean to hurt me?" Hermione kept screaming hysterically. "What the _fuck_ did you think was going to happen? Did you really believe I was never going to find out?"

Michael said nothing. His face was buried in his hands.

"I ignored every single report of infidelity there was." Hermione's voice was back to its normal volume, but she was still sobbing. "I decided to believe you. I decided to trust you. I thought you were done with your bachelor days when we got married. I thought you were committed to me. To Jane."

"And I am," Michael insisted. "I truly am. I broke it off. I broke it off as soon as Jane was born."

"That was just seven months ago, Michael! Am I supposed to feel better because you broke your affair off just a few months ago? Patricia came into the picture before we were even married! This went on for months! _I was lying on a hospital bed while you went away and had a little holiday!_" Hermione shrilled.

"And _Susan_..." she continued, her voice dripping with disgust. "I... I know you were..." She couldn't go on.

"I've known all along, haven't I?" Hermione said, almost to herself, as tears kept steadily streaming down her face. "But you told me... You said that nothing was going on. You told me, Michael. You _promised_ me. I guess I believed you because it was easier. And because I desperately wanted to believe that you had set your priorities straight. Merlin, how _fucking_ stupid of me! When Patricia arrived, you just quickly dismissed the secretary, didn't you? You changed the model. You... You change women just like you change cars."

Even Hermione was surprised to hear this coming out of her mouth.

"Hermione... I don't love them. I love _you_."

"You say you love me. And yet... you betrayed me. You betrayed our relationship. You made it a mockery. A joke. All this time... You have been laughing behind my back. You and who knows how many others..."

Hermione's heart was filled with embarrassment. With disappointment. She had worked so hard to convince herself that there was nothing going on between Michael and another woman. She had worked so hard to convince herself that her mind was playing tricks on her. Even when it seemed obvious. Even when she knew everyone gossiped about it. She had chosen to believe her husband.

Deep down, she was not that surprised to confirm he was cheating. She knew what Michael's reputation was when she got involved with him, but she had been so sure he had changed. When Jane was born he seemed happier, he seemed to really enjoy his time with his family. It was all a sham.

The conversation between Ron and Ginny she had overheard came back to her.

"Hermione lets him get away with _everything_," Ron had said.

And she knew he was right.

Michael was sitting down on the sofa, still crying. Hermione steeled herself for what she was about to say.

"I... I think we should... I think we... _I_ need space."

"No, Hermione," Michael almost screamed. He was hysterical. "_Please_ don't do this. _Please_ don't."

"You have to move out. I can't look at you anymore." She surveyed him for a moment. "You have been such a disappointment, Michael. All this time, you have been such a bloody disappointment."

"Hermione, you can't do this to me!" Michael looked deranged. "You can't separate me from Jane!"

"I don't want to separate you and Jane. But I can't bear your presence in my house any longer. And I am _not_ letting you take her. I can't."

"What about _me_? This is my house, too. Jane is my daughter, too."

"You didn't think about me when you slept with Patricia or Susan, did you? You never considered the consequences," said Hermione, her voice breaking once more. "Why should I care about you? You walked all over me."

"I never meant for any of this to happen. I never meant to hurt you, Hermione."

"No, Michael," said Hermione, sobbing. "You just never meant to get caught." And then she walked out of the room.

**A/N: You know you gotta review now. ;)**


	16. Failure

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, guys. I hope you enjoy this one. Working on the next one right now.**

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Failure**

She sat silently on the veranda. Jane was next to her, fast asleep in her pram, warm and snug.

It was a very cold day in Hogsmeade, but Hermione had warmed up her usual spot on the veranda, and was admiring the high street, which was covered in snow. Everything was very quiet, but in her head, a storm was raging on.

Michael had been gone for three days. Three long days that found Hermione cursing Merlin every time she remembered the cringe-inducing argument they had before he left.

Now she had no idea of what to do. She had not told anyone; not even Ginny or Harry. She was still trying to think of what to tell them. She doubted Michael had told his family—Beth would have arrived in Hogsmeade immediately, and Elizabeth would have at least owled if they knew anything. So where was Michael? _Probably in Oxford_, Hermione had decided, _staying in Liam's house_.

She felt an urgent need to sort things out. She needed to decide properly what would happen with her marriage, but the finality of that made her anxious. Michael had tried Flooing, phoning, and owling her, but Hermione burned the letters, disconnected the fireplace from the Floo Network, unhooked the phone from the receiver, and turned off her Blackberry.

She couldn't talk to anyone.

---

"I keep trying to Floo-call Hermione, but it doesn't work," Ginny said that afternoon. "You have her telephone numbers, don't you?"

"I do... They're on my desk," Harry replied distractedly.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd we can't reach her?"

"It is," said Harry. "But maybe she's on holiday with Michael."

"I highly doubt that. They can barely stand each other these days," said Ginny, in a slip of the tongue.

"How would you know that?" asked Harry, a curious expression on his face.

"I... Well, you see... When I was at the hospital with Hermione, and we were waiting for Jane's healer, she let it slip that she and Michael... hadn't been on the best of terms with each other lately. She was desperate to change things. Their anniversary was this past weekend, so she was hoping things would be at least amicable by then."

"It's incredible a year's gone by." Harry pondered over that thought for a moment, but then moved on to another subject.

"I talked to Ron a couple of days ago," he told Ginny.

"Yes? What did he say? He hasn't been over for Sunday dinner in a while. What did he tell you?"

"Things have gotten pretty serious with Claudia."

"Oh. Well, that was bound to happen," she said, disappointed. "That's... I guess that's actually good for him. Do you know if they... Well, you _know_..."

"Do I?" Harry eyed her with amusement in his eyes. Ginny gave him a meaningful look.

Suddenly he understood what she wanted to know.

"Ginny! Why would you want to know _that_? He's your brother!"

"Hey! I know you're wondering too!" Ginny exclaimed, blushing. "And for the record, I just want to see _how_ serious things have gotten."

"Well, he didn't tell me. Not that I'd tell you, anyway. But to give you an idea, things are so serious that... I think he's finally gotten over what happened. I think Hermione might be just a thing of the past. A mishap."

"'A _mishap_,'" Ginny repeated with disgust. "Did he say that?"

"Not in so many words."

"_Un-believable_."

---

"G—Good evening, M—Mr. Sandford," stammered a startled Rebecca, as her boss walked past her that Monday evening as she was leaving the office, without even acknowledging her presence. He was heading straight to Patricia Walters' office, looking furious.

"How could you?" Michael said, slamming the door as he entered Patricia's office.

"What on earth are you talking about, Michael?" replied Patricia with a sickeningly sweet voice. She was clearing her desk, probably heading out for the day.

Michael just stood in front of her while she attempted to ignore him. Patricia picked up her purse and stood in front of him.

"Get out of the way. I'm going to be late."

"You are not going anywhere."

"Of course I am." She tried to get past him but he grabbed her by the arm. "Let go of me!"

"How could you do this to me, Patricia?"

"Are you _drunk_?" asked Patricia, revolted by Michael's breath. "Oh _please_, I didn't do anything! Let me go! What happened? Doesn't your wife want to be with you as much as you want to be with her?"

Michael didn't answer. He simply let go of her arm and took his wand out of his pocket.

"Michael... What the hell do you think you're doing?" Patricia said in a low voice. She eyed his wand nervously, backing away from him. "Rebecca! Get in here! _Now!_"

Someone tried to open the door, but Michael had locked it. Patricia didn't know what to do. She was not going to be able to get her wand out of her purse. Michael was now pointing his wand straight at her.

"_What the hell are you doing?_" she asked again, terrified.

"You ruined my life!" Michael roared, starting to cry. "You... You fucked up everything good I had!"

Patricia jumped as someone knocked hard on the door.

"Michael?" Peter Sandford called out. "Open this door, _now_."

Michael shook with a sob.

"Why did you have to do it, Patricia? Why do you make it your business to ruin other people's lives?"

"Michael! Unlock the door!"

The door burst open, and at the other side stood Peter Sandford, standing with his wand at the ready. He was shocked to find his son threatening Patricia.

"Michael," he said cautiously. "Give me your wand."

"Please, Michael," Patricia pleaded, tears swimming in her eyes. "Don't do anything stupid. _Please_."

"I _love_ her, Patricia," Michael sobbed. "I have a daughter with her. Now she won't let me near her..."

"Come on, Michael," Peter insisted. "Hand me the wand."

Patricia stood at the other side of the room, motionless.

The window next to her shattered with an explosion, and Peter shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

---

"Oh, Jane, what are we to do?" Hermione said, as she bathed Jane.

The baby answered with a smile that made Hermione wish she were her daughter, and that she could be taken care of, oblivious to the problems around her.

"I envy you, princess."

Hermione wrapped her daughter up in a towel and carried her over to her room, where she dressed her in a soft, pink babygro.

"Have a good night's sleep, sweetheart," Hermione whispered, as Jane, now lying on her crib, slowly closed her eyes.

Hermione turned off the light and walked downstairs to the kitchen. It was still early, and she was considering on grabbing a book before going to bed, but she felt sick. She just sat awkwardly on the sofa in the sitting room, staring into the fire. It made her uncomfortable being practically alone in such a big house. She was nodding off when, suddenly, a knock came from the front door.

She quickly panicked, thinking Michael had come back. It had been a week since he left, after all, and she had stopped receiving letters from him. Hermione grabbed her wand from the coffee table and walked as silently and slowly as she could towards the door.

"Who is it?" she asked shakily.

"It's Beth. Please open up."

Hermione flung the door open to find her sister-in-law standing at her doorstep, hair drenched.

"What happened to your hair? It's not raining."

"I was taking a shower when I... when Mum called."

"So... you know?"

"I... Yes, I know."

Hermione let out a sigh. Beth stood awkwardly in front of her.

"Why are you here, Beth?"

"I can't believe neither of you said anything."

"I really didn't want to explain all of the gory details."

Beth swallowed.

"I'm so sorry he did this to you. I truly am," she said.

"It's not your fault," replied Hermione, moving aside to allow Beth into the house. "It's mine. I gave him the liberty to do what he did. I let him walk all over me."

"Don't talk like that—"

"But it's true!" Hermione was exasperated. "Don't you understand? I had my suspicions! I knew something was out of place! But I never confronted Michael! Sure, I _implied_ things... and Michael said that there was nothing going on... But, honestly! How thick can I be?"

"Hermione, you did what I would have done."

"Beth, I knew Patricia Walters was trouble. _You_ told me Patricia Walters was trouble. But never in a million years did I think that things with that... that... Ugh! I never thought he would go so far with her! When I found out that his secretary left, I thought that for once he had gotten his priorities straight. I mean... It was all probably wishful thinking. And when I was pregnant, even though I thought he was seeing someone else... I tried to think my mind was playing tricks on me, you know? I was so stupid!"

"Hermione, don't blame yourself. Michael was out of line. He really doesn't deserve you thinking this is your fault. I'm sorry because I didn't do anything."

"How much did you know?"

"I didn't _know_..." Beth said slowly. "At least, not for sure. But I was pretty certain he was... up to no good."

"Whatever," Hermione said. She angrily brushed a tear off her eye before it fell. "It's too late for regrets. I have to think about me now. About me and Jane."

"Please, Hermione. You have to sort things out with Michael."

The words Beth spoke shocked Hermione.

"Is that what you're here for?" Suddenly, Hermione was angry. "To intercede for your brother?"

"I hate what he did to you. No one deserves something like that. But he is still my brother. And your daughter is my niece, and I love her as if she were my own. I just want you to consider that the decision you take now is not only going to affect your life. It will affect hers too. And to keep Jane away from her father—"

"You have no right! How can you come in here and try to manipulate me with my daughter!"

"I am not trying to manipulate you."

"I thought you were different, Beth. I thought you'd understand. But how can you? You're one of _them_," said Hermione with disgust.

"What do you mean?"

"You are just like your mother. That selfish woman has been manipulating me since the day we met."

"Don't you dare talk about my mother that way!" Beth exclaimed indignantly.

"This is my house! I'll talk about her however the hell I want!"

"This was a bad idea. You are obviously not yourself right now. We'll talk some other time."

"You don't have to be so bloody condescending!" Hermione yelled as Beth opened the door.

"I'll see you later, Hermione," Beth said calmly. "Give Jane a kiss for me."

Hermione felt an unbelievable desire to scream her lungs out as Beth walked out of the house. Before she could, she found herself sobbing, tears streaming down her face.

---

"It's pouring... Merlin, why do we keep getting nasty weather?" Ginny muttered, coming down the stairs after tucking in Becky. Thunder and lightning had been bothering the triplets all night, and she had ended up soundproofing their room and boarding up the windows.

"It should be fine by tomorrow," Harry replied. "You know... I'm going up to Hogsmeade, I think," said Harry, as he fed Henry in the kitchen.

"What for?" asked Ginny.

"I have a feeling that something's not right with Hermione," Harry told her.

"A _feeling_? But you haven't had one of those in years! Don't start worrying me like that... Should I be concerned?" Ginny mocked him.

"Don't make fun of me, Ginny!" Harry exclaimed, feigning resentment.

Ginny laughed.

"Harry," she told her husband, taking his face in her hands and staring directly into his green eyes. "This is Hermione we are talking about. You know how distant she's become recently. I've been wondering what has been going with her, too, but I think she's probably off on some holiday with Michael and Jane... That's why it's been impossible to reach her. Now _I'm_ telling _you_ that there is probably nothing to be worried about."

"Ginny, don't you think she would have told us if she went away? And weren't you the one that said that Michael and Hermione couldn't stand each other anymore?"

The doorbell rang.

Ginny looked at the clock over the window, shocked by the sound of the doorbell after midnight. She looked at Harry in confusion.

"Hold that thought," she said quietly, getting up to answer the door.

As she walked up to the door, she looked out the window and couldn't believe her eyes when she saw Hermione.

"Harry! Get over here!" she yelled, opening the door.

"I can't take it anymore, Ginny," Hermione said. She was standing under the pouring rain, drenched from head to toe, with Jane crying in her arms. Her suitcase was next to her.

Ginny immediately took Jane from Hermione's arms. "Come on in, quickly!" she said.

Harry rushed out of the kitchen, carrying Henry, and looked as baffled as Ginny did to see Hermione in front of him.

"Get her trunk," Ginny told him. Harry walked over to the door and tried to pick the trunk up, but it was too heavy. "What the bloody hell do you have in here?"

"Everything," Hermione said, breathlessly.

Taking his wand out of his back pocket, Harry levitated the trunk and shut the door.

"Hermione, would it have killed you to use a water repelling charm?" Ginny asked, drying both Hermione and Jane's clothes. "Jane came out of the hospital less than two weeks ago."

"I'm not even thinking straight anymore..." Hermione replied, sinking down into the sofa and burying her face in her hands. "I'm exhausted."

"Let's just..." Harry didn't know what to say anymore. "Why don't I tuck in Jane?"

"Can you tell us what's going on?" Ginny asked softly.

Hermione burst out in tears.

Ginny signalled to Harry that they should go upstairs.

"We'll be back in a minute," she said kindly. "We're going to tuck in these two."

Harry and Ginny left Hermione alone for a couple of minutes, after which Ginny returned downstairs to find her in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water.

"I'm sorry," said Hermione, as Ginny went into the kitchen.

"Sorry for what?"

"It's 20 minutes past midnight."

"Oh please, don't be ridiculous. We were up anyway. The babies kept waking up because of the storm."

"I meant to come earlier... I just... I'm not well. I... I mean..."

"Just stop talking," said Ginny abruptly. "You seem like you'll hurt yourself if you keep going on."

Hermione exhaled. She hadn't even realized she was holding her breath.

"Let's go upstairs," Ginny went on. "Harry is tidying up the guest room for you, and Jane is already asleep with the triplets."

"Thank you so much, Ginny. I don't know what I'd do without you."

---

"Hello," said John sleepily, as his wife sat down next to him to have breakfast.

"Hi," Beth replied in a weary voice, planting a kiss on John's cheek.

"You haven't told me what happened when you went to see Hermione last night."

"Oh. _That_. You... You were right."

"I told you. You have to give her space. You're her sister-in-law! She won't want to talk for a while."

"But I'm her friend—"

"Ultimately, you are the sister of the man that betrayed her, Beth."

"Sometimes, I really wish Michael would think before fucking things up. I don't think I can look at him the same way anymore."

"Oh, Beth, I've known Michael for quite some time now. I know better than to think he thinks things through before fucking up. We've had suspicions for a while—"

"Yes, but John, now it's out there. It's confirmed. It's... It's all true. Before, there was always hope. Now everything's _awful_."

"Well, everything's out in the open and there is nothing we can do except brace ourselves for the storm," said John. "Which reminds me; your mother called earlier."

"How's Michael?"

"A healer saw him... Gave him some potions to calm him down and put him to sleep. Your mum said he'll be fine, 'not thanks to that complete cow of a woman he married,' though. I don't recall ever hearing that kind of language coming from your mother."

"Oh, Merlin. Michael's gone mad, and Mum's getting irrational."

"She got there a long time ago," John muttered. "Anyway, I don't think I need to tell you that Michael did what he did due to the vast amount of Firewhiskey he had ingested in a couple of hours. He wasn't thinking properly.

"Did you tell Hermione about it?"

"No... Well, it's not like she gave me a chance, anyway," Beth said, taking a sip of coffee. "I think I'll go to Bedford today. Or I'll try to find Liam and tell him what a complete moron he is. _Honestly_..."

---

Hermione had been staying with Harry and Ginny for three days. She still hadn't said anything about what had happened, and the Potters were sensitive enough to avoid the conversation until Hermione seemed ready to talk about it. She had been spending a lot of her time with Jane and the triplets, something for which Ginny was grateful.

In the morning, before Harry went to work, Ginny decided she would take Hermione on a walk that afternoon. Harry told her Hermione would not be ready to talk about her problem, but Ginny was too worried to listen to him.

"I'll call Mum to see if she can come over," she told him. "We need to talk without preoccupations."

---

"Let's sit here. My feet hurt," said Ginny.

"It's no wonder," Hermione said. "Do you have any idea of how long we've been walking? It's even starting to get dark. I'm hungry already."

"I hope Mum cooks something. I'm tired."

After a few moments of awkward silence, Ginny decided to break the silence with the question that had been bothering her for days.

"Hermione, what happened with Michael? You've been staying over for three days and you've barely said a word. Did you have a big row? Don't tell me you're running away."

"Ginny, I..." Hermione swallowed. "I threw Michael out of the house last week."

Ginny was gobsmacked. She blinked for a minute or so, at a loss for words.

"I... I never thought it could get this bad."

"Someone sent me some pictures... of Michael with another woman, and they... They were quite compromising."

"That _bastard_... And you've kept it to yourself for a week? And you say it as it were nothing of importance?" Ginny shrilled.

"Ginny... I didn't want to burden you and Harry with my problems. I only came here because I realized the burden was too heavy for me to carry by myself—alone. And I say it the way I say it because... I'm exhausted. I've been lying to myself for such a long time..." Hermione said, starting to cry. "I feel so stupid. I feel so embarrassed. I feel like such a failure."

"I promise Harry and I will help you with everything you need," Ginny said, embracing her friend.

"I don't know what to do," Hermione said, producing a lace handkerchief from her pocket. "If I had only confronted Michael earlier... I just brought this upon myself. I let him lie to my face every day."

"Hermione..." said Ginny cautiously. "Did you... Did you ever suspect he was cheating?"

"Oh, Ginny..." Hermione sighed. "It was so much easier to carry on with life and pretend everything was fine."

Ginny took that as a "yes."

"That isn't like you, Hermione. Hiding from your problems is not the solution."

"You're right. I couldn't run away from the fact that I failed to keep my marriage together," said Hermione sadly.

"Hermione... Your marriage started to fall apart long before that wedding."

"I know."

"You're... you're so much different now than you were a few years ago."

"Listen... When Mum and Dad died, I couldn't have felt more alone. Even though I'm very grateful for having you and your family... I miss my parents every day, Ginny. _Every day._ Since the day I received the phone call that their plane had crashed, I was never the same. Mum was one of my best friends, and the person that I looked to for advice and guidance. And I didn't have her anymore. I got scared of life. I didn't want to live another day without her or Dad. And I also didn't have Ron with me, so I..." Hermione paused. "I felt three times the grief. I dove into self pity, I started doubting myself... You know how many times I've replayed that scene at the restaurant with your brother?"

Ginny remained silent, looking at her friend with pity. It was clear these thoughts had been tormenting her for a very long time.

"For about two years after he left, I went to bed every night remembering how excited I had been that night and how it all blew up in my face. It had been our first proper date in months! I'd been feeling hurt because I felt Ron was hiding something from me, but I still had high expectations for the evening. The more I think about it, the more I think what happened was all some huge misunderstanding. You know? Something he probably couldn't tell me because of his training... Something that had nothing to do with me or with our relationship. Or even worse, something that was happening in my head.

"I remember how I stood up indignantly, angry at him for having to cut the evening short. It wasn't even his fault! It was his _job_! But I stood up with no idea of what that would cause. I'd just planned to go home, cool off, and talk it over with him in the following days... But then he followed me outside... And I said things I regretted immediately. I didn't want to break up. I loved him so much... But the words just slipped. The thing is... I never expected him to leave the way he did. I still had hope that it would all be solved in a few days time. And then he left without even saying goodbye."

_No wonder she's so messed up,_ Ginny almost said aloud, immediately embarrassed by her thoughts.

"I guess this is how I changed. Slowly, but surely, I turned into someone I am beginning to be repulsed by. Merlin, I really don't know how this went so wrong. This isn't the life I imagined I would have. Not at all. _This isn't the life I wanted._"

Ginny thought of what to say for a moment.

"You know what I think? I think there is a lesson to be learned from all of this." She gave Hermione the quickest of smiles. "And it's time to make things right."

Hermione nodded as she smiled.

"There's only one good thing that has come out of this, and that's Jane. I love her so much, Ginny. Like I never imagined I could. And my greatest fear is that she will be terribly hurt by the mistakes I've made."

"That's why I think you need to talk to Michael."

Hermione looked at her in surprise. Ginny continued.

"I know I sound like a mad woman, but don't you think it is quite suspicious the way these pictures surfaced? Things with Michael had been fine up to that point, weren't they?"

"Relatively, yes."

"The times I've seen Michael since Jane was born... I don't know... He seemed different. It's obvious that he cares about the two of you very much. I think you need to talk to him before you rush into any decision. Because it seems to me that, even though Michael was wrong in doing what he did, someone was trying to hurt you and your marriage." Ginny paused for a moment. "Have you talked to Michael about the pictures? Has he told you when they were taken?"

"I think they were together while I was in the hospital."

"You have to talk to him as soon as possible. The sooner you do, the sooner everything will be solved."

Hermione and Ginny walked back to the house in silence, but Hermione looked and felt noticeably better.

"I'm going to call him," Hermione told Ginny when they reached the front door, taking her Blackberry out of her pocket.

"Alright, but don't take too long. I can already feel the effects of the warming charm starting to fade from my coat."

"Don't worry," replied Hermione, laughing as Ginny went into the house.

She turned the phone on, ignored the voicemail alerts, and dialled Michael's number. She was astonished to get his voicemail recording. Nevertheless, she prepared to leave him a very important message.

"Michael... It's me. I need to talk to you. I've been thinking about us and Jane and I think we need to resolve our situation once and for all, but I need straight answers from you. Please contact me soon. I... I don't know where you are, but I have a pretty good feeling you're with Liam... I'm staying with Jane at Harry and Ginny's house. I know she misses you. Call me soon. Bye." Hermione ended the phone call and went into the house. There were voices coming from the kitchen so she hung her coat and walked towards them.

She was surprised to find Harry looking grim, sitting at the table as Molly served him a cup of tea. Ginny's back was towards her, since she was looking out the window over the sink.

"Merlin, who died?" Hermione teased lightly, as she sat next to Harry. Molly tensed, but Hermione didn't notice. "You are depressing me, Harry Potter. How many cups of tea have you had? Isn't it time to bring out the Firewhiskey bottle?"

"Hermione..." said Harry, in a voice that told her something was very wrong.

Ginny turned to face her and Hermione realized she was close to tears.

"Oh my God! Is Jane alright? Where is she?" Hermione practically screamed.

"Jane's perfectly fine!" Molly's volume matched hers. "She's taking her nap."

"Listen," Harry continued. "John was here until a few minutes ago. He waited for you for a while."

"John? John Lancaster?_ Beth's _John?"

Harry nodded.

"What did he want?" Hermione asked slowly, looking bewildered at Harry, Molly, and Ginny. When no one said anything, her relatively calm demeanour turned frantic. "Is Beth alright? Are the children okay? Tell me, Harry!_ Say something!_"

"Hermione," said Ginny softly, "Michael's had an accident."


	17. Uncertainty

_**A/N: Well. How do I even begin to apologize for the enormous wait I've put you through? There aren't enough words. I want to thank you for your immense patience. If there were no one reading then I wouldn't bother to continue posting, but on we go, however slowly. This chapter was very very hard to write and it's a turning point in the story. While it's not my favorite, it's necessary to move on. I hope you like it and you feel motivated to leave me a review, which would make my day.**_

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Uncertainty**

Hermione walked silently alongside Ginny, behind a nurse. The few minutes she had spent following her seemed like hours. With each step, she grew more and more nervous.

She had arrived to St. Mary's Hospital not knowing what to expect. After the initial shock of learning that Michael had been hurt, Hermione listened as Harry tried to explain what he knew about the accident.

"He crashed Liam Parke's car when he was on his way to London," Harry had said. "There was some kind of construction work going on and he crashed against one of those concrete barriers."

"Was Liam with him? Why was he driving that car?" Hermione knew Liam's car was a tiny convertible built for speed, not safety.

"I think Liam wasn't in the car... I don't know why he was driving. I mean—"

"I need to get to the hospital," Hermione interrupted Harry, walking out of the kitchen and putting her coat on.

"I'll go with you," Ginny told her.

"Ginny, you don't have to—"

"But I want to."

Hermione would have been lying if she'd said she didn't want Ginny there with her.

They finally reached double doors that read, "Intensive Care Unit—Restricted Access."

"They're through here," said the nurse gently, sliding a key card through a card reader and opening one of the doors for them. Hermione and Ginny were suddenly standing in a long corridor. Hermione recognized the four figures sitting in a little waiting area at the very end of the hallway.

Ginny looked at her friend worriedly.

They walked quickly, in silence, until they reached Liam, Beth, Peter, and Elizabeth. Beth stood up as soon as she saw Hermione.

"Thank God you're here," she said, giving her sister-in-law a strong hug.

Hermione felt embarrassed. Last time she had seen Beth she had practically thrown her out of her house.

Peter, who was sitting next to his wife, also got up. Elizabeth didn't move one bit. Hermione thought she was praying.

"How long has he been in?" Hermione asked. She was shaking. Peter gave her a peck on the cheek.

"About an hour. He's in surgery." Beth answered. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen.

"How— How bad is it?" Hermione asked.

Beth didn't reply. Peter lowered his gaze.

"Beth," Hermione insisted, her voice trembling as she grabbed Beth's arms and shook her slightly. "Tell me how bad!"

"It's pretty bad," Beth finally whispered.

"Shit." Hermione felt her stomach flip.

"He was in Liam's Aston Martin, this awfully tiny car... They don't know what happened exactly, but since he was driving over the speed limit..." Beth drifted off.

Hermione remained silent. She couldn't fathom the idea of Michael, of whom she had always made fun of for driving like an old man, driving irresponsibly.

"He went through the windshield," Peter whispered, almost to himself. Ginny gasped.

"It's a miracle he's still alive," Beth sobbed.

Hermione looked at her with pure horror etched on her face.

"Can't they transfer him to St. Mungo's?" Ginny asked. "Surely his injuries can't be much of a challenge for a Healer."

"Daddy called a few of his friends, and I told Ben to come over, but they said that while Michael was in the operating room there was nothing that could be done."

"Where is Ben? And John?" asked Hermione. She didn't want to talk about Michael anymore. She didn't want to know any more details about the accident. She couldn't think about her feelings right now.

"They went to get some tea for Mum..." said Beth. "I'm going to call home, see how the children are doing. Excuse me."

Hermione nodded and turned to Peter. Elizabeth appeared to be unaware of her presence.

"I'm... I'm so sorry I wasn't here sooner," Hermione told him.

"The important thing is that you're here. Hermione..." Peter sighed. "I'm deeply sorry about... everything. I only found out what happened a couple of days ago. If I'd known something sooner—"

"Thanks. I know," Hermione replied.

"How's your wife?" Ginny asked politely.

"She's scared," Peter answered. "The doctors here... Well, let's say they didn't give us much hope. But they are the best in London. The very best." It sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

Hermione noticed Liam sitting quietly on a corner. She walked over and sat next to him.

"I'm so sorry," Liam told her. "I don't know how I let him get in that car."

"It's not your fault," Hermione replied.

"It's like I gave him a loaded gun, Hermione! He wasn't well... He wasn't fit to drive. I should have known better."

Hermione didn't reply.

Two hours later. No news. Elizabeth Sandford was getting anxious.

"They haven't been out in a long time, Peter."

"Maybe those are good news, darling," Peter tried to assure her. "No news has to be better than bad news."

"We wouldn't be here if it weren't for _her_," Elizabeth told her husband, her voice dripping with disgust. She didn't realize Hermione and Ginny were able to hear everything she was saying from where they were sitting.

"Elizabeth, this was Michael's fault," said Peter firmly. "You know this very well."

"_She_ kicked him out of his own house!" she hissed. "_She_ broke my son's heart!"

"Don't give me that," said Peter angrily. His face was red.

"Well, what do you want me to say?" Elizabeth shot back. "He deserves to be here? He went mental, Peter! He could have killed Patricia!"

_Patricia?_

Hermione looked at Ginny. They both had confusion etched on their faces.

"For once and for all, face the facts," Peter said, raising his voice slightly. "Your son is here because of his own irresponsibility and utter disregard for other people."

"He's your son too, Peter. Don't you care?"

"I think I care more than you ever will." With that, Peter stood up and walked away, leaving Elizabeth looking hurt.

"I don't get it," said Hermione. "What did she mean 'he could have killed Patricia?'"

"I'm as confused as you are," said Ginny.

Michael came out of the operating room shortly after Elizabeth's exchange with Peter.

"The surgery went well," the doctor told them hesitantly. "But he is still in a very fragile condition. It's going to take a lot of time for him to recover." The doctor paused. He did not seem ready to say what was coming next.

"What is it? _Please_," Hermione begged.

"Is he going to be alright, though? Did the concussion affect him severely?" Elizabeth insisted.

"Mrs. Sandford," the doctor said, addressing Hermione, "it is likely your husband lost eye sight because of the injuries he suffered when he went through the car's windshield."

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione groaned, shaking her head. The doctor was taken aback.

"My experience tells me it's unlikely we can give him his eye sight back," the doctor said.

"No, no, no," Elizabeth moaned over and over as Peter hugged her.

"It could be worse, Lizzie," Peter told her gently, trying to hold back tears and failing. "It could be worse. He could be dead."

"Can I see him?" Hermione asked unexpectedly.

The doctor nodded. She followed the doctor into Michael's room without looking back.

As soon as she saw him, she felt sick. The scene in front of her was dreadful.

Most of Michael's body was covered in either bandages or plaster. His handsome face was covered in cuts and bruises, his eyes bandaged. A breathing tube was taped to his mouth.

"Oh, Michael..."

Hermione spent a few moments in the room with Michael. Her face said everything she couldn't say. She was horrified, confused, and she didn't know what to do.

Of all the scenarios she imagined when she eventually had to see her husband again, _never_ did she imagine that he would be fighting for his life.

"Mrs. Sandford?" Hermione was startled as the nurse interrupted her train of thought. "Um, your mother-in-law—"

"Say no more," Hermione told the nurse, walking out of the room. As soon as she did, Elizabeth got up from her chair and almost ran into the room. Hermione could hear her sobbing.

"Is it really bad?" Ginny asked as Hermione sat in the chair next to her.

Hermione could only nod.

"I am so, so sorry," said Ginny, wrapping her arms around her friend. "Are you feeling alright?"

Hermione looked at her sternly.

"Right," Ginny said. "Stupid question."

"Hermione? Are you awake?"

She felt someone calling her from very far away. _Oh_, she thought—rather foolishly—in her unconscious state, _they must want to talk to me_.

"Hermione?"

She opened her eyes to find Ginny and Beth looking at her with concern.

"Darling, the doctor is suggesting we go home to rest," said Beth.

"Oh," replied Hermione, still trying to wake up. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. They say Michael is stable and that it's not likely he's waking up soon," Beth told her.

"Also, that chair looks very uncomfortable," Ginny chimed in.

Hermione sighed. "It is." She had chosen to stay in the waiting room and leave Peter and Elizabeth with Michael. She couldn't be in there with him. Not until she got a grip on the situation.

This had all happened too fast. One minute she was trying to reach Michael to sort things out between them, and the next she was facing a very hard future: having to look after a seven-month-old baby and a blind husband.

Part of her was angry at Michael for doing what he did, for betraying her trust. She was almost angry at him for getting himself into this mess. But another part of her told her that what had happened was punishment enough for him.

"The Healers from St. Mungo's came by," Beth said, bringing Hermione back. "They said they could transfer Michael as early as tomorrow morning."

"What do you say?" Ginny asked. "Want to go home with me? We can get back early in the morning."

"I guess that's okay. I won't do anything by staying here, right?"

Hermione and Ginny apparated to Penny Lane. Although Ginny fell asleep almost immediately after her head touched the pillow, Hermione found herself unable to close her eyes. After tossing and turning for 45 minutes, she got up and went downstairs to fix herself a cup of tea.

As the water reached boiling point, Harry walked into the kitchen.

"Can't sleep, eh?" he said.

"No," Hermione replied. "What's your excuse?"

"Becky decided she wants a snack," Harry told her. He looked at her worriedly. "I know you must be pretty tired of hearing this question but... How are you?"

"I'm so confused," Hermione said, letting out a sigh. "I wasn't even sure of what I was going to do before the accident and now... I'm completely lost."

"Which is funny because you always had amazing advice for me," Harry said in a light tone. Hermione gave him a weak smile.

"I'm really sorry this is happening," he continued, serious now. "But I'm sure you will get through this. You're strong... You're brilliant... And I think that deep down you know what to do."

"I... I love Michael," Hermione told Harry. "I care about him. But the truth is that I don't love him the way I said I did. I never have and I know I never will.

"Despite all this... He is Jane's father. I don't want her to grow up with a single mother. I want us to raise her together. It's hard to explain it. I just think she deserves that, you know?"

"I understand," Harry said quietly."But you don't have to stay in the marriage against your will. Subjecting yourself to a loveless marriage won't do _any_ of you _any_ good."

"I know that. The thing is, 'to love and to hold' wasn't the only vow I made. Michael really needs me now, and I know that if he were in my position he would be there for me."

It was Harry's turn to give Hermione a sad smile.

"I told you you'd know what to do."

---

After being able to sleep a bit, Hermione got ready to go to the hospital once more and, this time, face the responsibility that came as a consequence of Michael's accident.

"Good morning," Harry told her. He had been waiting for her at the foot of the stairs.

"Hi," she replied with a yawn.

"There's a letter for you," Harry told her. "It's from Beth."

Hermione took a look at the letter and sighed.

"Michael's in St. Mungo's," she said. "I'll just apparate over right now."

"Good luck."

Hermione experienced the familiar feeling of being pushed through a tight rubber tube for a second, and then she was facing the busy atrium of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

She knew where to find Michael. Since his injuries weren't of a magical nature and St. Mungo's didn't usually treat those kinds of injuries, he would probably be on the third floor, where Ben could help with his recovery and keep a close eye on him.

Peter and Elizabeth were with Michael when she arrived.

"Hello, Hermione," Peter said when she entered the room.

"Good morning," she replied. "How is he?"

"They mended all his bones," Elizabeth replied with a smile, something Hermione had not seen her do in ages. "Ben got him to breathe on his own, too. Also put a bit of bruise healing paste here and there... We're just waiting for him to tell us what can be done for the eyes."

Peter squeezed his wife's shoulder.

Hermione looked at Michael, realizing he looked much better than the day before. His breathing tube was gone, and the cuts on his face were fading. The only thing that remained the same was the gauze over his blue eyes.

"Hermione! You're here!" Ben said brightly as he entered the room.

"I take it you have good news?" she said as he hugged her.

"Well, I still haven't figured out what spell to use on the eyes. I've been reading and reading but can't seem to find anything that may help. But apart from that, everything looks great! It seems he's going to recover slowly but surely."

"Oh Ben! Thank you so much!" Elizabeth gushed.

Suddenly, Michael groaned.

Everyone freezed.

He groaned again.

"Michael?" Elizabeth whispered nervously. "Darling? Can you hear me?"

"Hermione?" Michael said, his voice hoarse.

All eyes focused on her.

"Shh, I'm here," she said, walking toward him but not getting too close.

Michael's hand searched for hers.

She reached out hesitantly, not sure of whether she wanted to take his hand or not. She finally did take it, and it was freezing. He didn't have much strength.

"Michael?" Elizabeth asked anxiously. "Do you feel alright?"

"What's going on?" he mumbled. "Everything's dark."

As they explained to him what happened and what was going on, he started sobbing.

"Shh, it's alright," said Hermione quietly.

"I'm so sorry," Michael said, his voice still rough.

And Hermione knew what he was talking about.

---

"Ready to go?"

"You're going with me?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Ginny wanted to go keep you company but I think it's better we let her sleep-in this morning, so I'll just go to the Ministry in the afternoon."

"Thanks for doing this."

"Mind if we get some coffee first?"

"Not at all."

Today was the day Healers would re-evaluate Michael's condition, and they would let the family know when he would be discharged from St. Mungo's.

Hermione was nervous. She didn't know how long it would take to fall into a routine. She didn't know how things would work now that technically she and Michael were back together. After a couple of weeks of having Michael in the hospital, Hermione still hadn't fully grasped the situation.

Last night, she took Jane to see her dad. Michael had gotten better. His vision hadn't returned completely, but he was able to at least see shadows. A visit from Jane, his princess, put him in bright spirits.

"You know," he told Hermione, as he tickled Jane, "I love you both so very much."

Jane was giggling. Hermione forced herself to smile weakly, but didn't reply.

"Why aren't you saying anything?"

"Oh, I'm just tired."

Michael remained quiet for a minute.

"I'm very sorry," he said quietly. "About everything."

"I know," Hermione replied. "You need to stop apologizing."

"If I could go back and do things over again—"

"The thing is, Michael, we can't go back and change things. They are the way they are and what we have to do is embrace what's happened and move on."

This wasn't the way she was expecting to move on, but she'd embraced it.

"You're angry," he said.

"I'm hurt," she replied.

"I'll make it up to you."

"Let's just get you out of this mess first."

Jane bounced happily on her father's lap.

Once they were inside St. Mungo's, sipping coffee from warm Styrofoam cups as they climbed the stairs toward Michael's room, Hermione asked Harry a question that had been bothering her lately.

"Is Ron alright? Is he happy?"

Harry allowed himself to look at his friend as if she were barking mad.

"He seems to be... Why are you asking me this?"

"Because I want him to be happy. That's all."

Harry knew there was something Hermione wasn't telling him. And he had known her long enough to know that she was still deeply in love with Ron. She couldn't fool anyone. Which is why he was so angered by the fact that his two best friends insisted on continuing to make more mistakes. But he told himself not to get involved anymore. The situation was too messed up already without his involvement.

As they entered the corridor, Hermione heard someone scream. She looked up, and she saw how Elizabeth Sandford's petite frame fell to the floor. The man in lime-green robes stood awkwardly as Peter Sandford tried to console his wife.

Hermione dropped the cup in her hand and ran toward the Sandfords. She heard Harry as he ran behind her. Her heart was ready to pound through her chest. When she was getting closer, the Healer turned toward her, a pained expression on his face.

"I am so deeply sorry," he simply said. "There wasn't anything we could do."

Hermione just stepped back slowly and fell into a chair. She looked at the Healer with a blank expression, as if she didn't understand. The air seemed to vanish from her lungs. She stared blankly at the space in front of her.

Michael was gone.

_**A/N: Leave a review! They're fuel for fanfic writers.**_


	18. Funeral

_**A/N: I know. I took a millennium before updating this fic, and it's not even a long chapter. I sincerely hope you can forgive me and that you believe me when I say that my sluggish pace does not mean I'm giving up on it. If anything, the fact that I'm updating a year after my last update shows my commitment! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. I will try to be more diligent with my updates. I promise.**_

_**A big thank you is in order to those of you who have written messages and reviews over the months to check up on the story. You guys know who you are. :)**_

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Funeral**

_Funeral services for entrepreneur Michael Sandford will be held today, 18 March. Sandford died of a stroke after suffering injuries from a car crash. He was 31 years old. He is survived by his wife, Hermione, his daughter, Jane Elizabeth..._

_London is still in shock over Michael Sandford's untimely death. We have been unable to reach family members for comment, but sources tell us that the entire family has been getting ready at the Sandford Estate in Bedford for days, in anticipation of today's private memorial service. Hermione Granger has been nowhere to be seen, and a source tells us it is likely she has been committed to a psychiatric hospital, leaving little Jane in the care of her grandparents. Also, we learned from a close friend of the family..._

Elizabeth Sandford sat in front of her precious vanity desk, immobile as an enchanted hairbrush tended to her hair. Beth was getting something for her mother to wear.

It was an occasion no one expected. Elizabeth had always thought she would be gone long before her dear son passed away.

A tear silently slid down her cheek as Beth entered the room with some clothes draped over her arm.

"I got the tweed suit," Beth told Elizabeth.

The mother nodded.

"Where is your father?" she asked.

"He's downstairs. He's talking to the guests."

"Alright. I'm going to get dressed."

"Hang on," said Beth, grabbing the enchanted hairbrush and beginning to brush her mother's hair herself.

"Just leave it," Elizabeth whispered.

"Mum," Beth sighed. "You know Michael wouldn't want you to be like this."

Tears continued to flow freely down Elizabeth's cheeks. Beth put down the hairbrush and hugged her mother.

"I can't believe he's gone, Beth," Elizabeth sobbed.

After Elizabeth had calmed down, she was ready to join everyone downstairs. As she and Beth made their way down the staircase, there was commotion at the door.

"Let me through!" a woman exclaimed.

"The service is about to start, ma'am," someone told her.

"I don't give a bloody fuck!" the woman screamed. "Get out of my way!"

Right then, Patricia Walters entered the foyer.

Elizabeth and Beth froze.

"I need to talk to you," Patricia told Elizabeth as soon as she noticed her presence.

"What are you doing here?" Elizabeth's voice was low but full of anger. "How dare you?"

"Elizabeth, please," Patricia begged, starting to cry. "Listen to me!"

"_You_ are the reason my son is gone. Get out of my house," she practically whispered.

Ben suddenly appeared and grabbed Patricia by the arm, dragging her out of the room.

Elizabeth broke down in tears.

"I'll take her into the kitchen," Mary said, taking Elizabeth's hand and guiding her.

"I will be right there," Beth said.

Ben came back into the foyer.

"Is she gone?" Beth asked with disdain.

"Yes," Ben replied. "She's gone."

Beth sighed.

"That was the last thing we needed." There was a long pause. "How's Hermione?"

Hermione sat quietly in front of the small white altar set up by the lake. The scene reminded her of Dumbledore's funeral several years ago.

"It shouldn't take long," Ben said, appearing suddenly by her side. "Here they come."

She turned in time to see Elizabeth walking down the aisle. Peter walked next to her, trying very hard to keep composure. However, he couldn't contain his sobs. Beth and John walked behind them.

This was the first time Hermione saw Elizabeth since Michael had died. She looked terrible.

Elizabeth wore no makeup. No jewelry. Just a pair of sunglasses and a plain black suit.

"Is it going to start now?" Hermione asked Ben. He didn't answer. She moved her eyes to see what he was staring at. Her heart jumped.

Three redheads and a man with untidy black hair were approaching.

Molly led the group and hugged Hermione when she reached her.

"You didn't think we would leave you alone, did you?" Molly asked as she hugged her.

Hermione started crying.

"Oh, don't cry, sweetheart," Molly said gently.

"Thank you so much for coming."

By the time Hermione had hugged Arthur, Ginny, and Harry, she noticed that at the other side of the aisle, Elizabeth was sobbing into Molly's shoulder.

Soon, everyone had taken their place, and an official from the Ministry of Magic stood and faced those gathered by the lake.

"Sometimes," he began, "we are cruelly reminded of how fragile life can be, and how suddenly it can change. Sadly, it is the death of a father, a husband, a son, a brother and a friend that brings us together in this occasion.

"I understand Mrs. Lancaster would like to say a few words?" he nodded towards Beth. She stood up and approached the tomb. She placed her right hand on top of it for a moment.

Hermione, who was sitting on the front row, between Harry and Ben, suddenly realized that Liam was making his way towards the front. When he reached the tomb, he put his hand on Beth's shoulder.

Beth looked surprised when she realized it was Liam who was standing beside her, but she turned and, holding his hand, walked to face the gathering. It was then when Ben stood up and took his place by Beth.

"Thank you all for coming," she began, her voice trembling. "I... I never thought I'd have to do this. I want to say a few words on behalf of the family. Michael was my big brother and... he had a lot ahead of him." She had to stop once she noticed her voice began to break.

Liam squeezed her hand, and Ben leaned in to whisper something in her ear. She shook her head and carried on. With shaking hands, she pulled a folded piece of parchment out of her pocket.

"My brother Michael was a great man. He was dedicated to his work, to give the best part of himself in order to make the family business prosper. But I—what I know... I know with certainty, is how much he loved his wife and his daughter."

Hermione felt her muscles tense. Beth stared right into her eyes.

"I am _so_ grateful you came into his life. I'm so grateful you came into _my_ life. You are the best sister-in-law anybody could hope for," Beth sobbed. "And ultimately, I believe you made him a better person. You may not realize this now, but I hope you will one day.

"It breaks my heart that he won't be here to see Jane or any of the children grow up. He couldn't wait to teach her how to ride a broom. He couldn't wait to see her in her Hogwarts robe... to take her to King's Cross on the first of September and help her board the Hogwarts Express. There was nothing he looked forward to more than getting to raise this wonderful little girl by your side."

Beth was now letting the tears flow freely. The parchment in her hand shook.

"I try to understand why this horrible thing has happened to us. And... I can't. This is a true tragedy, and I can only hope that time will help us move on."

"I just checked on Jane," Ben told Hermione, sitting next to her. "The nanny is keeping an eye on her and the children."

'Thank you," Hermione replied quietly. She was sitting in the garden. Everyone had gone inside for tea, but she wanted a few minutes alone.

"Are you okay?" she asked Ben.

Ben shrugged. "I'll be fine."

"I know you better than you think," Hermione told him. "I know you think you can't come to me because Michael was my husband, but I can tell you that if anything happened to Harry I'd be devastated. You knew Michael much longer than I did—"

"Michael was a very lucky man," Ben said, eyes welled up. He gave Hermione a peck on the cheek and walked away.

Hermione stayed in place. She didn't want to go inside and face everyone. Would it be long until guests started to leave? She couldn't wait to grab Jane and go home.

"Hermione?" a tentative voice uttered behind her. When Hermione turned she couldn't have been more surprised.

"Anne?" Hermione immediately stood up and hugged her friend.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Anne said gently. "Silly question but... how are you?"

"I could be better but... it's manageable," Hermione smiled. "I'm so happy to see you, though! Have you seen Harry and Ginny—"

"Just ran into them," Anne replied.

"How are things going? How's the job?"

"I... I truly love it," Anne told Hermione, beaming. "I've learned so so much... I do regret being so busy. Well, not so much being busy... rather being exhausted. But I haven't seen you in ages. I can't believe it's been so long."

Hermione was thankful to have Anne there, and the distraction could not come at a better time. She also could not believe how much time had passed since Anne left, and all the things that had happened since they last saw each other. Suddenly, Hermione remembered something she needed to do.

"Come on," she told Anne. "There's somebody you must meet."

"Hermione," Anne breathed, "what a beautiful, beautiful girl."

Hermione smiled.

"Oh God," Anne continued, looking fondly at the little girl sitting on her lap, "I can't believe I'm only meeting her today."

"I can't either," Hermione admitted.

"And she's so big!"

"Just turned eight months old."

"Oh Hermione... Can I keep her?" Anne pleaded with a laugh.

Sometime after Hermione had taken Anne up to the nursery, which Elizabeth had insisted on refurbishing when Jane was born, Harry and Ginny had come up to say goodbye. Even though Hermione knew they were only a floo call away, she knew things would be different from now on. Sure, she knew she had her friends, but she also knew she had to carry on with life, without Michael to help, _or blame_ when things got tough.

She was about to start living her life.

_**A/N: You know the deal: I write, you review. Aaaand GO.**_


	19. Catharsis

_**A/N: Is anyone still there? Yes, I'm actually still writing this thing. Hope you enjoy.**_

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Catharsis**

"Hello," Ben called, walking into the garden. "Nice weather you have going on in here. It's freezing out there."

"Just perfecting that weather charm!" exclaimed Hermione, a smile on her face as she gave Ben a hug. "I'm so happy to see you."

"You feel like you are about to break," Ben told her, half-jokingly. Hermione laughed nervously.

"I'm all right," she said gently.

"Are you sure?" Ben asked, glancing at her sideways as he picked Jane up from the blanket Hermione had laid out on the grass.

"So to what do I owe this visit?"

"Just wanted to check on you," Ben simply said, planting a kiss on Jane's cheek.

"How are things?"

"Well, I think everything is going exactly the way you would expect," Ben said dryly, sitting down on the blanket with Jane.

"Would you like anything to drink, or—"

"No, no. Sit down, please."

"How are they?" Hermione asked quietly, sitting cross-legged in front of Ben.

Ben looked down.

"I don't really know where to begin," he told her. "Elizabeth is clearly letting herself go. She transferred her company shares to Peter. Now he has an overwhelming advantage over the rest of the board. A lot of people are angry."

There was an awkward pause.

"What else, Ben?"

Ben looked uncomfortable. The silence sat awkwardly between them. Jane was playing with Ben's watch. He tickled her, and her laughter filled the garden.

"As far as I know, Elizabeth is putting all of her affairs in order and Peter's very worried. He's stopped going into the office altogether. I think he's so concerned that he is considering getting her professional help. To be honest, I don't understand how he hasn't done it already."

"How do you know all this?"

"Where do you think Liam has been staying?"

"Liam's living with you?"

"He moved out of his place," Ben said, nodding. "Says he's going to sell it. Something about too many memories there."

"So what?" asked Hermione, suddenly irritated. "He's just going to pretend Michael never existed? He's just trying to forget him?"

"Hermione," Ben said quietly, "I think Liam is just trying to forget Michael is gone."

Hermione looked away, suddenly interested in the way the grass moved at the will of the wind.

"I received a letter from Peter this morning," she told Ben, still looking away. "He's asking me to go visit them in Bedford."

Jane giggled. She pushed herself up to play with the butterflies fluttering around the nearby patch of flowers.

"What did you say?"

"I haven't written back."

"But what are you going to say?"

"Well, I'm not sure I know yet." Hermione sighed, exasperated. "This is a lot to take in."

Ben thought carefully of what he would say next.

"It would do them a world of good if you visited."

"I'll keep it in mind."

"And since when hasn't Jane seen her—"

"Don't push me, Ben."

"All right. I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Hermione said gently. "But... you know Elizabeth hates me."

"Being completely honest with you, I highly doubt that is the case anymore."

Hermione gave Ben an incredulous look.

"Trust me," he said.

"How's Beth?" Hermione asked, changing the subject yet again.

"You keep asking about everyone but won't let me get a word in to ask about you."

"Are the children all right?" Hermione pressed.

Ben smiled wryly.

"John and Beth are taking a Caribbean holiday at the moment."

Before Hermione could say anything, she noticed Jane had started to put flowers in her mouth.

"No, no, Jane!" she shrilled, getting up to grab her daughter. "Pretty flowers are _not_ for eating."

Ben laughed.

Jane began to cry when her mother separated her from the bright blooms.

"All right, I think it's time for your nap," Hermione said.

The three of them headed towards the house. Ben was taken aback when he went in.

"What's this?" he asked, looking at all the boxes around him. "Are you moving?"

Hermione's face turned pink. "I am," she admitted.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I... didn't know how. Michael had this house for a long time. I didn't know how you would react."

"What do you want to do? Where will you live?"

"I think we'll go to Oxford."

"Maybe you can have Liam's place," Ben said insincerely.

There was silence. Jane squirmed in Hermione's arms, trying to break free.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said.

"No, I shouldn't have said that. I just didn't expect you to move. I mean, when my dad died, all my mum did was rearrange the furniture."

"Well, the house is much too big for the two of us. And I live all the way up here, far from family and friends... I know that shouldn't even matter, because you can all be here in a second if need be, but... it matters to me."

Ben nodded.

"Fair enough," he mumbled.

They went up the stairs and into Jane's room, where there were toys scattered all over the floor.

"Pardon the mess," Hermione said. "Mind the creatures."

"Somebody has been busy!" Ben laughed, tickling Jane.

"You have no idea. She grabs everything within reach. Most of my day consists of me hovering over her to make sure she doesn't put anything in her mouth. I don't remember the last time I took a proper bath."

"Well, why don't you take one now? I can look after Jane. She'll be asleep anyway."

Hermione laughed. "I'll be fine."

"No, I mean it," Ben insisted. "You go and I'll prepare lunch for us."

Hermione closed the drapes as Ben tucked Jane in, then almost ran to her bedroom, extremely excited about the prospect of being able to take a bath without having to keep one eye on the baby in the bouncy chair lying in the middle of the bathroom.

888

"Merlin, Ben, you have no idea how much I needed that," Hermione laughed lightly as she walked into the kitchen. In front of her stood Ben, with Jane in his arms, and sitting at the table was Ron.

"Hello," Ron said meekly, with a hesitant wave of his hand.

Hermione looked at Ben, then back at Ron, then at Ben.

"How long was I up there?" She was frozen in place.

Ron snorted.

Hermione sighed, a smile threatening to break out.

Jane, who was in Ben's arms, cried and stretched her chubby arms towards her mother.

"Jane Elizabeth, I thought I left you napping," Hermione said sternly, still flustered by Ron's presence in her kitchen. She moved towards Ben and took her daughter.

"She started fussing a bit after Ron got here," Ben said.

"Oh. Had you met before?" Hermione looked at both men, confused. She kept trying to place Ben and Ron in the same place at the same time and failed.

"No," Ron said. "We just met."

"Didn't take much to realize he's one of Ginny Weasley's brothers, though," Ben said, fuzzing his own hair and making Ron laugh.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked softly.

Ron's cheeks turned pink. He turned serious.

"Just wanted to see how you were," he told her, not quite making eye contact.

Ben cleared his throat.

"How about I take Jane upstairs so you two can have a proper chat? Ron here tells me you two haven't spoken in ages." Without allowing Hermione to refuse, Ben took Jane from her arms and exited the kitchen.

"Would you like anything?" Hermione asked awkwardly.

"I'm all right, thanks."

"It's nice to see you," Hermione whispered.

"It's terribly nice to see _you_," Ron replied.

Hermione felt uneasy. Her hands were trembling, and her head was pounding. She tried very hard to control her breathing. The last few times she had seen Ron, Hermione had realized how she kept trying to repress her feelings and how violently they resurfaced when she let her guard down.

"How have you been?" she managed to ask.

"Everything's going well."

"How's the ministry?"

"I really love it there," Ron immediately replied. "At least Claudia and I get to work together now that we've graduated from paperwork."

"That's nice," Hermione told him in the most sincere tone she could muster. She sat down next to him, but both just stared at the table without making eye contact.

"How's everyone in Ottery St. Catchpole?" she continued. "I got George's wedding invitation. Molly must be busy."

"You have no idea."

"I miss you," Hermione suddenly admitted. From the corner of her eye she saw Ron's head snap sideways.

"So do I," he muttered. "Jane has grown so much."

"I know," Hermione replied, a smile lighting up her face. "She was so tiny, and now she tries to wrangle her way out off my arms whenever she sees something shiny."

Ron laughed. "Harry tells me you're moving to Oxford?"

"Yes."

"At least you'll be closer to us." The way Ron said "us" made Hermione smile once again. "Do you need anything?" he continued. "Are you and Jane all right?"

"Yes, we're doing all right. I've been trying to pack up Michael's things... Ginny and another friend have been dropping by to help."

"I'm sorry I haven't—"

"No, please! You don't have to. I appreciate you coming over today." A definite understatement.

"I was sorry to hear about what happened. I should have been here the last time, too," Ron told Hermione, referring to her parents' deaths.

It was then that she began to tune him out. It was too painful to remember "the last time." Too painful to remember his absence. Too painful to remember what led to it.

Suddenly, she felt Ron's hand on hers, which was clenched into a fist. He smoothed his fingers over her own until the fist relaxed, and poured her a glass of water.

"Thank you," was all Hermione said.

"Don't worry about it." The silence that followed was agonizing.

"Claudia and I are willing to help with whatever you need."

Hermione flinched internally. She nodded.

"Thank you," she finally managed. "Thanks for... caring."

"I'm not here because I feel guilty, Hermione." Ron sighed. "Just because we're not together anymore doesn't mean I don't care. And I should have been there for you in the past. There's no excuse for that. You would have been there for me. We were best friends for years, Hermione. Me not being here for you right now would be... just unacceptable."

Hermione did all she could to stop herself from wrapping her arms around Ron and begging for his forgiveness. Because he had been blaming himself far too long for something she was just as guilty of.

"I better go," Ron said. "You know how to find me." Awkwardly giving her a pat on the arm, he walked away.

"Thank you for coming, again." Hermione's voice was soft and quiet.

888

Hermione walked into the sitting room, where Ben sat reading an old issue of Quidditch Today.

"Is everything all right?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

Ben looked at her quizzically. "Should I serve lunch?"

"I don't know." She looked dazed.

"Hermione, I'm not joking. Are you all right?"

"I don't know."

"What happened?" Ben looked horrified.

Hermione sighed.

"Ron is... my ex. Boyfriend." It sounded so trivial.

"Oh," Ben said, suddenly uncomfortable. "It never occurred to me you had any of those."

"I've got just the one."

"Did he want anything from you?"

Ron didn't want anything from her anymore. He had Claudia now.

Hermione's eyes welled up. She shook her head.

"Hey, it's all right," Ben said softly. He took her hand. "What's the story with this bloke?"

She finally smiled.

"Oh, you have no idea how long the story is."

"I have loads of time."

888

Hermione knocked on the door.

Within seconds, Peter Sandford answered it.

"Hermione," he said softly. "Thank you for coming."

Hermione gave him a gentle smile.

"How could I not?" she said, hugging him as she walked into the house. Jane was in her arms.

"And how is the prettiest girl in the world?" asked Peter, grabbing his granddaughter's attention.

Jane smiled broadly as her mother handed her over to her grandfather.

"How are you?" Hermione asked Peter.

"Well, I'm taking things one day at a time," he told her, as Jane managed to get a hold of his glasses, making him smile. He looked exhausted, though.

"Let's join Lizzie for some tea." He took Hermione's hand and led her toward the north sitting room.

888

Elizabeth Sandford was sitting on a chair by the window. The day was a perfect reflection of her life nowadays. No colors. No spirit. Just days of sitting around, not knowing what she waited for.

Elizabeth felt someone approaching, and yet she remained just like she was. She didn't have the energy to sit up straight, or put makeup on, or dress properly.

"Lizzie," her husband said. "Hermione and Jane have come to visit."

Elizabeth remained still, her back to her guests.

"Hello," she managed.

Hermione stood awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do.

"Why don't you have a seat?" Peter said, gently nudging her forward.

"Of course," Hermione replied, walking towards Elizabeth and taking the seat next to her. Hermione was surprised to see the state her mother-in-law was in.

"Why don't you talk while I take Jane to see the horses?" Peter said nervously. "Beth's boys are down there and they will be very excited to see this little one."

"Are you sure?" Hermione interjected quickly. "I would be more than happy to go with you down to the stables."

"I think you two need to talk," Peter said. He walked out of the room, talking to Jane animatedly.

Hermione noticed that although she had been in the house for more than five minutes, the only thing Elizabeth had said to her was "hello." No criticism. Nothing. The only thing the woman had done had been stare at the cup of tea on her lap.

Elizabeth looked different. Thinner. Paler. Deteriorated. Quiet. But just when Hermione thought she should go after Peter, Elizabeth broke the silence.

"I always expected Michael to marry a society girl," she said. She was so calm it scared Hermione. "You know, a girl with a title. Someone who had been raised and prepared for a life as grand as I wanted my son's to be. And then he fell in love with you."

_Ah, there it is,_ Hermione thought.

"I was not prepared for you, Hermione. I was taken by surprise by Michael's sudden enthusiasm with such a simple girl. It just did not go along with my expectations."

To say this conversation was destroying anything Hermione expected from her visit would have been an understatement.

"I once wanted Michael to be Minister for Magic," Elizabeth told her. "Did he ever tell you that?"

Hermione was taken aback. She shook her head.

"Well, I'm not surprised. He hated the idea. He loved working with his father. He was very happy. But there was always something missing. I didn't realize it then, but the more I think about it, the more sense it makes. He met you, Hermione, and suddenly... he seemed complete. But I guess he didn't know what to do with that."

Hermione could not believe her ears.

"I didn't want to see it. I didn't want to hear it. I wanted him to keep looking, keep my plan on track. Michael had to shine. He had his entire life ahead of him! And then you got pregnant and I just couldn't believe how much was changing in such a small period of time.

"And I know Michael wasn't perfect. I wasn't spared the sordid details of my son's life. Oh, Merlin knows I made sure he wasn't perfect, too. It's not something I am proud of. Yet you stuck by him. Until you just couldn't do it anymore."

Elizabeth's eyes began to well up. She looked away, trying to control her tears with her sleeve. Hermione had no idea what to do. She took the cold cup of tea from Elizabeth's lap and put it on the coffee table in front of them.

"I'm so embarrassed, Hermione," Elizabeth said, voice breaking. "I'm so... _ashamed_. I owe you an apology. I've owed you one for a very long time. This is all my fault. If I hadn't been so focused on myself... If I had stepped in and shaken some sense into my son..."

Elizabeth couldn't finish, but Hermione understood the meaning in her words. She heard what Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to say. So she did something she had never done before: she hugged her mother-in-law.

"I am so sorry, Hermione," Elizabeth kept saying, trying to suppress her sobs. "It's my fault he's not here. It's _my_ fault! I've put you through so much... I've been so horrible all this time-"

"Elizabeth, please don't-"

"You don't deserve it. You don't deserve any of it."

Now it was time for Hermione's eyes to fill with tears. She pulled away and wiped them away, and Elizabeth took her hand.

"Please, I beg you," Elizabeth continued, holding Hermione's hand tightly, "don't keep Jane away from us. Don't take her away. She is the only part of Michael I have left, and I wouldn't be able to bear the pain if I lose her as well."

Hermione looked at Elizabeth with wide eyes. "I would never do that. I could never."

There was silence for a while. Hermione held Elizabeth's hand while Elizabeth managed to calm herself down. Suddenly, Hermione heard the boys running into the house.

"Would you like me to get you some more tea?" Hermione asked, suddenly worried that the boys would come in and see Elizabeth crying.

"That would be lovely," Elizabeth replied. "I'm going to get dressed."

Mary came in and took Elizabeth's hand, helping her up.

"I just put the kettle on, ma'am," she said. "Let's get you upstairs."

Once her mother-in-law and the housekeeper had exited the room, Hermione headed towards the voices of her nephews. She found Spencer and Marcus playing with tiny race cars in the kitchen while one of the nannies tried to get them to eat their lunch. Andrew sat on a high chair, picking cereal from a bowl and only occasionally bringing it to his mouth. Meanwhile, Peter sat with his granddaughters at the end of the kitchen table, smiling as Jane babbled and Charlotte listened intently.

As soon as Spencer and Marcus spotted their aunt, they ran to her and hugged her.

"I've missed you guys so much!" Hermione exclaimed, crouching down to give them hugs and kisses. They giggled and Charlotte turned her attention over to them. "Charlotte, darling!" Hermione was in awe of her niece. It seemed it had been forever since she last saw her, but it had not been more than a couple of months. She looked so much bigger.

Hermione picked Charlotte up, which made the one-year-old burst into tears.

"Oh, sweetheart! I'm so sorry! You wanted to stay with Grandfather, didn't you?" The baby girl was promptly placed on Peter's lap. He laughed and gave Charlotte a kiss while he began to bounce his leg.

"She's grown so fast I find it hard to keep up with her," Peter said. Hermione picked up Marcus, who had been extending his arms to her.

A few minutes later, Elizabeth walked in, supported by Mary.

"Hello, Grandmother," Spencer said quietly. He walked over to Elizabeth and took her hand. "Come see Jane."

Hermione was nervous. She moved to get Elizabeth a chair next to Peter. Elizabeth took the seat and just stared at Jane, who was playing with a colorful scrap of paper she had taken from the table.

"Hello, darling," Elizabeth whispered, carefully caressing one of Jane's red locks of hair. Everyone in the kitchen was silent. "You're so beautiful." She carefully took Jane from Peter's lap and placed her on her own. The baby was still focused on the paper in her hands, until she noticed Elizabeth's shiny wedding ring and started playing with it.

With a glint in her eye, Elizabeth kissed Jane's head and held her tightly. And for the first time in what seemed like a long time, she laughed.

_**A/N: **__**Reviews are love. I MISS YOU ALL; DROP A LINE. Hopefully the next chapter won't take a year.**_


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